


Impasse

by NegativeOpia



Category: Timeless (TV 2016), Timeless - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Garcia Flynn could be nicer...in the beginning, History, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, They fight a lot, Whump, Wyatt and Rufus try to help, not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22598635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativeOpia/pseuds/NegativeOpia
Summary: A rework of what could've happened after Flynn took Lucy, had she been stuck with him much longer. They're both stubborn, angry, and a little bit in love...but they haven't really figured out that last part just yet.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 170
Kudos: 210





	1. Men Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends, this is a first for me. Actually wrote this a long time ago, but found it and decided to post it. There's more, but I wont post it unless there is an interest in the story, so like and follow and everything if you want to see more. Thank you and enjoy!

“How many nights shall we expect you, Mr.Rogers?”

Lucy rolled her eyes at Flynn. If she weren’t so disoriented and, quite frankly, terrified, at the situation, she would’ve called him out on his obvious alias. As if sensing her sass, Flynn tightened his grip on her arm. Hard.

“Indefinitely.” Flynn responded, perhaps a little too abrasive. The sharpness in his voice caused a shiver to travel down Lucy’s spine. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since Flynn, quite literally, dragged her to the mothership and jetted them off to another time. She took a deep breath, attempting any sort of calm facade. Lucy knew that if she messed this up for him, made it seem as if she was reaching out for help, she would be in for a very unpleasant evening.

The bookkeeper seemed unfazed by his demeanor, simply handing Flynn two rusted keys,

“There you are, rooms 204 and 206,” Lucy’s pulse relaxed slightly, knowing she would have her own room for the night, “Now you and your wife have a nice night.” 

Flynn nodded once as Lucy just stared at the woman. She could say something to tip her off, but she doubted anything would get past Flynn. He may be an evil terrorist, but she had to admit that he was smart. Too smart for her to trick him. Flynn moved his hand to her waist, giving her no choice but to trail next to him. She didn't break eye contact with the bookkeeper until she was out of sight. 

He led her up to the second floor, his grip on her waist getting painfully tight. She dug her heels into the ground as they rounded a corner,

“Jesus, Flynn you’re hurting me,” She whispered, not wanting to make a scene for her own sake. His eyes stayed forward as if he hadn't heard her, but she felt his grip loosen slightly. 

They came up to room 204 and it suddenly became clear why he had gotten 206 and not 205, for the former was positioned just across the hall. If both doors were open, one could have a full view of both rooms from the far corner of either. 

_ Great, _ Lucy thought, mourning any whimsical wishes of privacy she previously had. He took out one of the keys, unlocking room 204 with a click. The door released a low groan as it opened, revealing a dark room with wooden floors. A queen bed sat in the center of the room accompanied by a small table with two chairs to the right.

He pushed her in with the hand at her lower back and Lucy jumped as Flynn slammed the door shut behind them. She could feel the anger radiating off of him, his hand still tense around her waist. She swallowed hard, reciting the same thing over and over in her head:

_ Flynn took me three hours ago. It’s a five hour ride for Wyatt and Rufus back to the Lifeboat in 1780 and four more hours for it to charge in the present. Two or so more hours for them to find me here in 1893. In 8 hours, I’ll be free and safe. _

_ Eight hours _

That is, if any of that information was true. Lucy could only guess how long she’s been with Flynn, but 3 hours seemed about right. But what if it took five hours to charge? Six? Was she remembering anything correctly? She took another deep breath to calm herself from a potential panic attack, god knows thats the last thing she needed right now. 

Flynn took her wrist in his hands and Lucy flinched at the fact that she had become so accustomed to him having his hands on her. Come to think of it, he hadn’t let go of her since the forest. Since he dragged her here against her will. She fumed.

Eight hours.

He pulled her to the bed post, the dark wood stretching from the foot of the bed to the ceiling. She stared at the pattern of the ceiling, absentmindedly tracing the blue swirls. There was nothing she could do now, not until she knew Rufus and Wyatt were here with the lifeboat. That meant cooperating with Flynn for at least a few more hours, avoiding any unnecessary consequences. It meant following him, allowing him to drag her like a lost rag doll. She calmed herself by remembering it would be worth it eventually.

Eventually couldn’t come soon enough.

She heard metal rattling as she turned back to Flynn digging in his pockets. His left hand was still on her wrist as they both stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. What on earth was he looking for?

As if on cue, his right hand emerged with a pair of handcuffs. Lucy instinctively pulled back, attempting to wretch her hand out of his grip.

“Lucy,” He groaned as if she were nothing but an uncooperative puppy. She pulled harder, panic rising in her stomach. Claustrophobes and handcuffs do not mix well,

“Lucy.” He said again, venom rising in his tone. She ceased her struggle but continued to breath hard. She shook her head, 

“No,” Was all she said. No, what? She thought to herself, as if saying that one word with compel him to let her go. He shook his head, locking the cuff around her right hand. He reached for her left hand as she brought it up to push him away,

“Lucy, stop struggling. You’re just making this harder for yourself.” He grabbed her left wrist, locking the handcuffs on the other side of the bedpost. She yanked on the metal cuffs once for good measure, hoping for that 1 in a million chance that maybe they weren’t secured correctly.

They were. 

Lucy released an aggravated grunt as she kicked the bottom of the bedpost. She heard a chuckle from the corner, not even noticing that Karl had entered the room. 

“Did you find it?” Flynn asked him casually, as if there wasn’t a girl handcuffed to the bed two feet in front of him. Karl nodded, looking Lucy up and down with interest,

“Yup, two blocks down. A place called the Studebaker Building on Michigan Avenue,” He plopped himself down unceremoniously at the table, “They’re expecting you in a half hour.”

“Good,” Flynn replied. He grabbed his gun from its holster, replacing the empty magazine with a full one. He cleared his throat and turned to Lucy, drawing his pointed hand up to her face,

“You, stay. Don’t do anything stupid,” Flynn grinned at her scowl, knowing quite well that she had no choice but to stay, “Karl, if she does anything don’t hurt her. Wait for me to get back,”

“Got it.” Karl said. Flynn flashed Lucy a devious smile before exiting the room.

* * *

The time Flynn was gone was quite uneventful. Boring even. Karl was uncharacteristically quiet as Lucy stood rooted to her spot, thinking of ways she could possibly escape to no avail. After about twenty minutes, she gave up, sliding to the ground where she sat until Flynn returned.

The door opened quietly as Flynn’s large frame entered the room. He closed the door carefully, turning the lock for good measure. He walked towards the table, his eyes locking with Lucy’s,

“How was she?” Flynn asked Karl, who had been so still the entire time he could’ve been sleeping,

“Quiet as a mouse,” He replied. Flynn seemed surprised at the admission, but brushed it off all the same. He handed Karl a cloth bag,

“Go get some rest, I’ll watch her tonight,” Flynn said, his eyes not leaving Lucy’s. Her stomach dropped and she imagined her face dropped as well. Flynn would be watching her. All night. 

Shit.

Karl got up and walked out obediently, leaving Lucy and Flynn alone in room 204.

Lucy turned her face to the ground, still feeling his stare on her. Her head rested against the bedpost, her hands awkwardly cuffed near her face. Her body was curled into itself, the old hotel walls keeping none of the winter chill out of the air. Lucy heard Flynn fumble around for a few minutes before taking a deep breath,

“Get up.” He ordered. She ignored him, closing her eyes and sighing. She heard him shift on the floorboards, 

“Lucy, get up. Now.” It was almost too easy to ignore him again. She told herself she would obey him to protect herself, but she also told herself that stalling him was equally as helpful. 

“God damn it, Lucy,” He grunted as he marched toward her. Panic rose in her stomach as she felt his arms thread under hers, pulling her body up roughly. He turned her so her back faced him. He scratched his head before pulling at the fabric of her dress, exposing her corset,

“You’re so damn stubborn. You could at least make this easy, but of course not,” He mumbled. He pulled at the threads of her corset hard, jerking her forward,

“If you hadn’t handcuffed me to a post maybe I could be of more use,” She spat, clanging the metal against the wood for good measure,

“So she speaks,” Flynn raised an eyebrow. He made it halfway down the lacing of the corset, “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Lucy craned her head to look at him,

“What I would do?” She repeated, “What choice did I have but sit there and wait?” 

“You surprised me,” Flynn said, his tone lighter, “I expected you to bombard Karl with questions, scream for help, maybe throw a shoe or two. But you were quiet, silent even.”

Lucy turned her head back to the post. Normally she would do those things, but she was exhausted beyond belief and becoming more and more hopeless by the second. She said nothing. Flynn’s hands stilled,

“Just like now.” 

Lucy closed her eyes, realizing Flynn had finished unlacing the back of her garment.

“The front, too,” She murmured. Flynn grunted in response,

“I’m not uncuffing you,” He said, reaching for a small silver key. She sighed, hating the alternative even more than her current position,

“Why, Flynn? It’s not like I have any chance to take you down.” She admitted. He unlocked her right wrist and took her shoulders in his hands, 

“Yes, but you’re resourceful. You want me to underestimate you, and I know too well how capable you are.” Flynn’s voice held flattery, but Lucy just rolled her eyes. He turned her back to the pole, locking her handcuffs behind her back. And the pole, of course.

“I hate you,” She said, arching her back uncomfortably. She hated this position; she felt vulnerable. Flynn stood in front of her and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Flynn wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching towards the strings on her chest. Lucy’s eyes widened and she stumbled backwards as far as she could before the handcuffs stopped her. Almost against her will, a small whimper escaped from her lips,

“I’m just trying to help you,” He whispered, almost softly,

“Then let me go!” She yelled, realizing too late a little too loudly. It must have been the middle of the night, and these walls were far from sound proof. But she didn’t care, let them hear. 

Lucy could tell that Flynn made the same connection.

“Lucy,” His eyes were daggers, “Don’t.”

He was almost too easy to ignore. She took a deep breath

Flynn lunged forward, clamping his hand down over her mouth. But she was dedicated, screw being obedient. She screamed, and even with his hand over her mouth she made a considerable amount of noise,

“Stop it,” He hissed, his face a mere inch from her own. She shook her head and he painfully pushed down on her mouth harder, digging her back into the pole. She cursed the handcuffs binding her in her place.

“Shut up now or I swear to god-” His venomous threat was cut off by Karl bounding into the room,

“What the hell is going on in here?” He said, breathing hard. 

“I’ll handle it.” Flynn’s eyes never left Lucy’s, his hand remaining on her mouth. Karl scoffed and raised an eyebrow,

“Maybe we can teach her a lesson.” He eyed her mischievously and Lucy felt her heart drop into her stomach. Flynn noticed her eyes widen with fear,

“Karl, leave. Don’t come back in here tonight, that’s an order.” 

He paused for a moment before exiting. Flynn cleared his throat,

“I’m going to take my hand away and you wont scream.” Flynn’s words were certain. She raised her eyebrow at him, shaking her head. He wore a look of confusion. To clear the air, she rattled the handcuffs against the wood and glanced at his hand on her mouth. Flynn rolled his eyes.

“For such a smart woman, you seem to be incapable of understanding the position you’re in right now.”

Now it was Lucy’s turn to roll her eyes, huffing a breath from her nose. Flynn’s expression changed, his anger and frustration melting away. He licked his lips,

“Fine. If I uncuff you, you won’t scream when I take my hand away. You will cooperate and act as my  _ very _ obedient wife. Deal?” 

Lucy fumed, making to shake her head before common sense stopped her. That was her plan, wasn’t it? Obey and do what she needed to do to stay alive until the boys came after her. Without a second time machine, she really didn’t have a choice. Against every instinct in her body, Lucy acquiesced, nodding her head swiftly. With unnecessary caution, Flynn slowly moved his hand away from Lucy’s mouth, preparing for the possibility that she’d scream despite their agreement. Part of her wanted to do that, to take the chance that someone would hear her and help her. But she couldn’t help but think that anyone who would come to rescue her would be in danger themselves, and that Flynn wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. So, she eyed Flynn as his hand lowered to his pocket. She bit her lips to resist the innate compulsion to scream. Lucy raised her eyebrows, and Flynn’s mouth cracked into a slight smile. 

“Patience, Lucy.” He fumbled around in his pockets until his hand emerged with a silver key. He smirked, deciding whether or not he wanted to continue teasing her. She shook her head,

“Garcia Flynn I swear to god-” Flynn held up his hand, holding a dark finger against her lips. Her eyes went wide in anger,

“Obedient. Wife.” He punctuated the words with a tap on her lips, “That, or you and that bedpost will be  _ very _ well acquainted by morning,” Flynn said, his mouth breaking into a smile. She could tell how much he enjoyed this, somehow finding amusement in her immense frustration. All she could do was glare at him as he reached around her, releasing the handcuffs.

Lucy exhaled, rubbing her red and sore wrists. She ran her tongue along her lips, just now realizing how thirsty she was. She had been so preoccupied with her predicament she had completely forgotten that she had eaten practically nothing all day. Flynn grunted, catching Lucy’s attention.

“One advantage to our little deal.” Flynn withdrew a thin piece of cardstock from one of the drawers, handing it to her. “Now we can order room service.”

“It’s the middle of the night.” Lucy shoved the paper into Flynn’s chest. He rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself.” He crossed the room in two strides, pressing a small button that resembled a doorbell. She heard a faint ring in the distance, followed by shuffling footsteps. Not even a minute later, there was a knock at their door. Flynn turned to face Lucy.

“Sit on the bed,” He ordered. It physically pained her to do so, but she did as he said. With a flare of drama that rivaled Flynn himself, she plopped down on the edge of the bed, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Don’t move, don’t speak, just don’t do anything.  _ Obedient _ .” He dangled the handcuffs from his index finger. Lucy huffed,

“Do I need your permission to breathe, dear husband of mine?” 

Flynn glared at her before opening the door, revealing a bellhop who had to have been only 14 years old. He was tall though, the boy only a few inches shorter than Flynn. He smiled,

“How can I help you, sir?” The boy said. Flynn slipped the boy a few coins.

“Just a beer,” Flynn said. The boy took the coins, nodding.

“And anything for you, ma’am?” Flynn’s eyes went wide with the realization that the boy was talking to Lucy. He turned, watching as Lucy sat silently on the bed. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line, her body sitting unnaturally still. She shifted her gaze to Flynn, cocking her head to the side and shrugging her shoulders. 

Flynn fumed, turning to the boy,

“She’ll take one as well.”

The boy nodded, his brows furrowed in confusion. Without another word, he turned and left. Flynn slammed the door behind him, crossing the room to stand at the foot of the bed where Lucy sat. She stared up at Flynn, eyeing him innocently.

“What the hell was that?” Flynn put his hands on his hips, his right hand dangerously close to where his gun was holstered. Lucy scoffed,

“You told me not to speak. I was just following your orders.”

Flynn shook his head, bending down and leaning forward. His face came within inches from her own and Lucy couldn’t ignore the fear that grew in her stomach. She drew away from him as far as she could without laying down on the bed completely.

“You will speak when spoken to, Lucy. I am a man of my word, but I made no promises to return you in one piece. If you keep on causing unnecessary issues, I’m afraid Mason Industries will receive a very  _ different _ Lucy Preston when I return you.” Her heart was racing, but no matter how much distance she tried to create between them, Flynn closed it in seconds. She climbed on the bed fully, crawling until her back hit the headboard. He followed, crawling towards her. She winced when he drew his arms up, flattening his palms on either side of her head, creating a cage around her. “Do you understand me?”

Breathing hard, Lucy just barely nodded. Flynn’s anger seemed to subside, and he nodded his head back at her. 

“Good.”

They sat there in silence, neither of them moving. Lucy’s stare hopped from one of Flynn’s eyes to the other, shifting her position on the bed. Finally, Flynn pulled away. He reached for the ties on her corset and, on instinct, she slapped his hand away. Reaching with his other hand, he caught her wrist. She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but his grip was iron. She grunted in frustration,

“What the hell are you doing?” She eyed him furiously, trying to push even further away from him.

He threw her arm down, 

“Get undressed and go to sleep. I’ve had enough of you tonight.”

Tired with his presence so close to her, Lucy gathered the saliva in her mouth and spit in his face. THe shot landed just under his left eye, and, for the fourth time that day, his expression turned furious,

“Then you should’ve thought twice about abducting me!” She yelled. He wiped his cheek, covering her mouth with his hand once more. This time, the force of his grip pushed her head into the pillow, and she was suddenly under him. Her claustrophobia kicked in, causing her body immediate panic. Against her will, her body fought the man eclosing her, punching and kicking whatever flesh she could find. Flynn pressed down harder,

“Stop!” He hissed. She couldn’t hear him, her senses blinded by the adrenaline now coursing through her veins. She felt her fist connect with Flynn’s face, drawing blood from her knuckles and underneath his eye. The blow knocked him sideways, just enough for her to slide under him, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. Her breathing was heavy, as was Flynn’s, and for a few moments, there was nothing but silence.

Her bare legs were freezing against the wooden floor. No matter how hard she willed herself to move, her body would not obey. Her stare remained locked on Garcia Flynn, and more specifically, the drop of dark blood running down his cheek.

At that moment, she saw something snap inside him just before he launched himself off the bed. Lucy reared back, not even fighting to conceal the scream that involuntarily left her lips. She brought her hands up in defense, just as she heard the sound of a familiar bell ringing. 

Flynn froze immediately, almost comically so; his right hand drawn back, undoubtedly in preparation for a slap to Lucy’s face. The realization dawned on them both, remembering the beer he had ordered just minutes ago. In a flash, Lucy was standing, ripping her arm out of the grip that pulled her up. Flynn opened a cabinet, tossing an off white towel in Lucy’s direction. She caught it, the fabric a soft blessing to her ripped and blood soaked knuckles.

Flynn drew his own towel across his face, smearing the blood to the point where it just looked as if he was blushing. He pointed to Lucy.

“Don’t just stand there, fix yourself.” He gestured to her torn dress, half open corset, and tattered face. She licked her sore lip and tasted the coppery hue of blood, realizing that she had torn it open in their struggle. She brought the towel to her lips, wiping down her chin to the best of her ability. 

She examined herself in the reflection of the window, deciding that the rest of her appearance would not be a quick fix. The boy had already been out there abnormally long. Before common sense could stop her, she crossed the room, grabbing Flynn’s discarded suit jacket and putting it on. It was huge on her, large enough to hide the ripped seams and busted ties of her dress. Without another glance at her captor, she crossed the room again, sitting on the foot of the bed just as she’d done before. To aggravate Flynn even more, she stared straight at the wall, refusing to look even remotely in his direction.

She saw him inhale deeply in the corner of her eye before opening the door to the boy.

“Here you are, sir, two lager’s for you and the lady,” The boy said, handing Flynn a tray. Lucy’s finger traced the seam of his jacket, catching on something metal-and Sharp. With a low gasp, it dawned on her that  _ of course  _ Garcia Flynn’s suit jacket was lined with knives. With a glance in his direction, she yanked the thread enclosing the hidden pocket. She quickly removed the knife, which was a switchblade, and tucked it in the lining of her underwear. 

Flynn nodded, shutting the door in the boy’s face before he could say anything else. Flynn crossed the room, placing the beers on the wooden table. 

“You should’ve said thank you,” Lucy murmured, her fingers toying with the sleeve of Flynn’s jacket. He grunted,

“You should’ve asked permission before taking my stuff.” He popped open the first beer, taking three large gulps. 

“What do you think that boy would’ve thought had he seen me the way I was? Split lip? Torn dress?” Flynn stilled, his hand pausing mid-reach. Lucy swore she saw his eyes flare with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Guilt? Pity?

She shrugged it off, continuing,

“You would’ve been lucky if he didn’t call the cops the minute you opened that door.” She finally looked in his eyes, his brows drawn together and his beer still hovering just above the table. “So, you’re welcome.” She finished, wiping her palms against her dress.

Flynn set his beer down, opening the second bottle. He reached into his bag, pulling out a bag of what looked like little white pills. Lucy rose to her feet,

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m gonna need my coat back, Lucy.”

“I asked you a question,” She said, stepping toward him. Flynn opened the bag,

“I have weapons in the lining of that jacket. So, unless you’re going to use them against me, take it off.”

Lucy huffed, shrugging off the coat and throwing it on the ground. Flynn merely glanced at it, uninterested. Lucy watched, waiting for an explanation. Sensing her discomfort, Flynn held up the tablet. 

“This’ll help you sleep-“

“No.” Lucy’s voice was firm, stronger than she thought she was capable of. Flynn sighed, more out of annoyance than frustration or anger.

“Lucy-“

“Did you actually think I’d agree to you drugging me? Are you insane?” 

“We’re both exhausted- I think you’ll find me even less agreeable when I’ve had no sleep.” Flynn’s tone was flat, and Lucy found it even more infuriating that he wasn’t raising his voice in the slightest. 

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Lucy said, turning to face the opposite wall. She busied her fingers with unlacing the remaining strings on her corset. She finished with an aggravated grunt, throwing it to the floor. What remained was her off-white shift, which, in these days, was equal to wearing nothing but bra and underwear. She silently thanked the traditions of old, in which it was commonplace to wear full dresses underneath normal dresses. Her breath released shakily, her nerves only slightly eased by the knife tucked against her hip.

“I’m tired, Lucy. I need to make sure you stay put so I can sleep.” Flynn’s voice was softer than usual behind her. She shook her head,

“What about Karl? Isn’t that the point of your little battle buddy?” She scoffed, slipping off her boots. Silence dragged on for unusually long, until Lucy turned to face him to make sure he was still there. His face held that same grim look, his eyes suddenly three shades darker. He had sat down, his finger absentmindedly tapping the edge of the table.

“I saw the way he was looking at you—before, I mean.” Lucy shifted uncomfortably on the floorboards. Flynn cleared his throat, eyes finally meeting hers. “The men that I work with—I can’t trust them to...restrain themselves.” 

Lucy scowled, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“The men you work with are mercenaries, Flynn. You can’t trust them with anything.”

Flynn grunted out a laugh, and Lucy approached the table. 

“Especially you,” Flynn just barely whispered. The words halted Lucy in her tracks, the air between them suddenly felt heavy.

“And whose fault is that?” Lucy breathed. 

Near the edge, the beer meant for her was open and full, foaming slightly. She looked at Flynn, his expression curious. Lucy hadn’t seen what he’d done with the pill that he’d been holding, and she didn’t trust him enough to ask if he’d put it in her drink. She reached out, taking the beer from Flynn’s hand, taking a long sip.

Her decision made Flynn sigh. 

“I’ve seen what Karl is capable of. I’m warning you now to be careful with him.” He stood to tower over her. “Men like him can’t control their impulses.”

“Anyone can control their impulses. Men like him just don’t care enough to try.” Lucy stilled, her throat suddenly becoming dry. “Men like you.”

If she didn’t know better, Lucy would’ve thought she saw pain flash behind his eyes. It was gone in an instant, just like every involuntary show of emotion from Flynn. The moment his soul takes a peek at the light, his body shuts it out. He dropped his gaze.

“You’re either taking this pill or you’re sleeping handcuffed to the bed. Or me. It’s your decision,” Flynn said. Lucy scoffed,

“You say ‘decision’ like I actually have a choice in the matter.”

“Would you rather me give you no options at all?” 

Lucy’s face fell. Perhaps she had been feeling her stomach churn and her head swim for the past few minutes, but now it was becoming too strong to bear. Her vision began to swim, Flynn’s face weaving in and out of symmetry. She stepped back shakily, any sense of balance gone in an instant.

“I warned you not to force my hand, Lucy.” His voice was distant, echoed, somehow far yet somehow close. It was his drink. He knew that she wouldn’t trust him -- that she would rather drink from his own beer than hers. God, she was so  _ stupid. _

“You’re not stupid. You’re actually quite resourceful; and careful.” She watched as Flynn’s crooked body crossed to the wooden table. He picked up both drinks, tipped them upside down, and poured the contents into the extra chamberpot. Once they were empty, he threw the bottles to the ground. “So careful, I had to spike both of the drinks.”

Lucy fell, her back hitting the soft mattress. The urge to sleep was so tempting, so easy…

“Goodnight, Lucy.” She heard, as she drifted off to sleep.


	2. Reasonable Extent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy wakes up. And she's pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short one for ya while I write some more of this. Drop a comment if I should continue, thanks for the Kudos!

She awoke with a throbbing pain in her shoulder. Her eyelids felt like they were sewn shut, taking a considerable amount of effort to open. She was staring at the ornate ceiling of the hotel, almost immediately remembering the events of the night before. Was it last night? Lucy picked her head up, examining her surroundings.

Flynn's bag and coat were gone. The two bottles had remained where Flynn had tossed them. The room was still dark, the sun just peeking out over the horizon. By her guess, it was roughly 6 AM. 

She was struck then by a strong pain in her shoulder. She hissed, her eyes roaming up her arm until they settled on her wrist—handcuffed to the bedpost above her. She groaned, her head falling back into the soft pillow.

The door opened and closed quietly, clunky footsteps entering the room. Lucy’s eyes stayed glued to the ceiling- it didn’t take a genius to guess who had entered.

“You said if I took the pill you wouldn’t cuff me to the bed,” Lucy said, her tone flat. She heard him shuffle,

“I said if  _ you  _ took the pill,” Flynn approached the bed, entering her field of vision. “I seem to remember you refusing that quite adamantly.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, pulling roughly against the rotting wood with a grunt.

“Well now that you’ve returned, take them off.” 

Lucy was too afraid to acknowledge the growing pit in her stomach that signaled an incoming panic attack. She tightened her hands into fists, willing them to stop shaking.

“Remember our agreement-“

“Goddamnit, Flynn, let me out of this or I swear I will-“

“You’ll what?” He asked. She sighed, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill. She was exhausted, in pain, hungry out of her mind, and wanted nothing more than to be home. But she couldn’t do anything to help that, could she? The knife at her hip was next to useless-a mere comfort that she had a semblance of defense. Her eyes fluttered closed, defeated.

“Nothing,” she mumbled. 

Her acquiescence was a shock to Flynn, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Lucy busied herself with focusing on her breathing, taming the internal panic that was threatening to burst through her relatively calm facade. Flynn regarded her a moment longer before turning away.

“We’re venturing outside today,” His voice was muffled in her head, her focus on his words hanging on by a thread, “I have a feeling you might even enjoy it.” He returned with a jumble of cloth in his hands, dropping the burgundy fabric next to her on the bed. Lucy covered up the shakiness of her breath with an exaggerated sigh.

“So, what must I do to get released from these today?”

Flynn smiled his devious smile and shook his head.

“Nothing. As long as you stay perfectly agreeable.” He reached for the handcuffs, and Lucy knew the excitement was showing clearly on her face. He paused, glaring down at her, “To a reasonable extent.” He punctuated his words sharply.

She would do anything for freedom from bound hands, something she was getting uncomfortably used to. She closed her eyes, because somehow it was easier that way. As always, Lucy nodded. As always, she was a slave to his silver key. 

But the release was worth it.

She hadn’t been prepared for the weight on her shoulders, and her fists came racing down, hitting herself in the face. The metal of the handcuffs cut into the skin below her eye, and a sharp sting accompanied the sensation. Shocked, she sat up, tracing the area below her left eye; her hand came away dotted with blood.

Flynn made a disapproving noise, unlocking the second cuff from her wrist. Lucy sat up, wincing at the soreness in her shoulder. Flynn ducked down to her eye level, wiping her undereye with the pad of his thumb.

“Well if your plan was to make me look as suspicious as possible, its working.” He shook his head, wiping her blood on the towel from last night. Lucy stood slowly, making her way to the mirror in the corner and stilled.

Flynn was right. She looked...defeated. Where her wrists weren’t red with irritation, they were spotted with caked blood. She had bruises on her forearm and upper arm, both in the shape of a handprint. Her eyes were sunken, her lips dry with thirst. To top it off, she had a cut the size of a paperclip under her eye. On the surface, she will pass as just another woman. But to anyone who regarded her with even a slight amount of further interest, she would stand out immediately. She was attacked by a pile of cloth, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Get dressed.” Flynn crossed his arms across the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. He stared at her behind hooded eyes. Lucy raised her eyebrows,

“Are you going to leave?”

“No.”

“Are you going to turn around?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not changing.” Lucy dropped the dress on the floor. The small knife was cold against her hip where it was still secured in the waistband of her underwear. 

Flynn’s expression didn’t change.

They stood there at an impasse for a full minute, daring the other to break first. Lucy folded her arms across her chest, cocking her head to the side. Her gaze was strong and still, but so was Flynn’s. When the door to the hotel room flew open, they both jumped.

“We’ve got a problem,” Karl said.


	3. Here Comes the Valley Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love! Sorry this chapters short, I wanted to get it out before people lost interest. As always, like and comment and everything if I should keep going.

Lucy changed when Flynn left the room, not quite sure which one of them had won the battle. Karl’s frantic tone had put hope in Lucy’s chest, a hope that had grown dimmer as the hours dragged on. She had just slipped on the undergarments when the door burst open once more. 

“We’re leaving.” Flynn crossed in front of her without so much as a glance in her direction.

“Corset,” was all Lucy said. Flynn stilled, gaze flicking to Karl and back to Lucy. He dropped his bag, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her back to him. He laced the corset roughly, pulling the strings in a rush. Lucy hissed, gripping the dresser for balance. When he was done he drew his hands back as if her skin was hot to the touch.

“Hurry up, you have two minutes,” Flynn grumbled. Lucy was about to protest, but quickly decided this fight wasn’t worth it. Her mother always told her to choose her battles wisely, though Lucy was never any good at that. She focused on stumbling into the dress. 

It barely settled past her ankles when her arm was in Flynn’s grasp, her body being dragged out the door. Flynn glanced in her direction, heaving a disappointed sigh. Lucy rolled her eyes,

“Now what?” She asked, noticing Karl halt at the end of the hallway. 

Flynn didn’t respond. Soon they were outside, the bright light of day harsh against Lucy’s eyes. She flinched from the sun and the usual unfortunate smell the past always seemed to carry. It was almost midday by her struggled calculation, and still there was no sign of Wyatt or Rufus. She felt the nerves tingling in her stomach. Karl’s frantic interruption could’ve been caused by the boys, but both Flynn and Karl seemed far more calm now as they exited the bustling blocks of the city. 

They walked until the streets began to thin. The cobblestone turned to dirt and houses became fewer and far between. Before long, Lucy was staring at the treeline of a forest, the city merely a rumble in the distance. 

“Why are we going to the woods?” Lucy asked, anxiety building in her stomach, scared to go anywhere Wyatt and Rufus couldn’t follow. She thought briefly about digging her heels in the dirt, fighting for just a little more time for them to find her.

“Your friends are too skilled for their own good at ruining my plans,” Flynn grunted as he stepped over a log. “They must have discovered who my targets were and warned them.” He swatted a fly from his face, wiping the dead insect on his trousers. “That or they all simultaneously contracted the flu and decided to cancel their once in a lifetime meeting.”

Her face fell. Lucy wanted to feel relieved. She wanted to feel that victory they always felt after narrowly saving yet another historical figure from an untimely death. But instead of the pride she thought she’d feel, she felt uncertainty instead. Wyatt and Rufus were there in 1893, yet they hadn’t thought to save her.

_ You don’t know that _ , A voice inside told her,  _ They searched for you, that's why they came. _

Lucy felt eyes on her, and looked up to see both Flynn and Karl staring at her. She furrowed her brows.

“What?” She asked. Flynn narrowed his eyes before turning his back to her,

“Nothing.”

Flynn regarded her curiously before continuing,

“Anyway, your boys sent the Valley Gang after us, claiming I was a murderer.”

“They’re not wrong,” Lucy mumbled. She heard Flynn chuckle quietly. When she looked at him he was shaking his head.

“What?” She asked again. She was tired of Flynn acting like he knew all of her secrets, that every choice she was going to make has been made long ago. She hated being predictable, trailing along after him and hi—no, her—journal

Flynn licked his lips and stared straight ahead.

“Nothing.”

***

She saw the mothership in the distance. It was close; maybe a 5 minutes walk away. If she was going to do something it had to be now. 

Flynn had sent Karl ahead to start the lifeboat. Lucy waited until he was out of earshot to do perhaps one of the dumbest things she had ever done. Her fingers found the knife through the cloth of her dress, pressing down on the top before she felt it slip along her leg and into her boot. She tripped, grabbing the knife from her boot as she pretended to steady herself. Flynn’s hands were around her and she quickly hid the knife in her fist.

“You okay?” He asked. Had Lucy not known any better, she would swear she saw concern in his eyes. She nodded her head swiftly.

“I’m fine. It’s not like these dresses were made for walks in the woods.”

Lucy heard the mothership power up in the distance. It happened so fast that Lucy could barely process her own movements. She fiddled with the knife in her hand shakily before tripping once more. This time, Flynn's arms were around her waist in a flash, catching her in the middle of her fall. The second she felt his arms around her, she flipped the blade out and plunged it into his thigh. 

He didn’t scream, instead released a loud grunt through his teeth. His grip around her loosened, and she pushed out of the circle of his arms. Before she could run away, her upper arm was caught in his grasp. When she turned to look at him, his eyes looked feral. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of vicious barking. They froze.

“Spread out! He’s gotta be here somewhere.” An accented voice called through the curtain of the trees. Lucy watched Flynn’s eyes go wide.

“The gang,” Lucy whispered. Her attention was brought back to Flynn’s hand gripping her arm.

“Let me go, Flynn.” She spoke in the bravest voice she could gather. Her body was shaking from head to toe in a mixture of adrenaline and fear. 

Flynn was trying to lift himself from the ground using a tree as his anchor, but each time he stood his injured leg buckled underneath him. For the second time, hit the ground hard. 

“Flynn.” She said sharply. His eyes met hers, and for the first time Lucy could see panic in his eyes.

“Why can’t I stand?” He sounded confused, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard it. Lucy’s gaze settled on his wound. She had only meant to incapacitate him long enough for her to run away. It dawned on her that she most likely severed a nerve in his thigh; she felt the guilt begin to pull in her stomach.

“We’ve got a scent!” The voices in the trees called. The dogs responded with a growl. 

She was scanning the tree line when she felt Flynn’s grip on her arm turn feather light, slipping away gently. When she turned back to him, his face had gone pale.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. She had seen so much death in this job; so much suffering and sadness. Yet her conscience remained clear, for she could always reason with herself that she hadn’t been the one to cause it--not directly. If she were to do this, allow Flynn to bleed out or be taken by the gang, it will be her fault. Lucy closed her eyes, cursing under her breath.

“Will they kill you?” She asked. She opened her eyes to look at Flynn. He said nothing.

“Goddammit Flynn, if they catch you will they kill you?”

He wasn’t ready for her to raise her voice, he just barely nodded his head.

“If I’m lucky.” His voice was quiet, practically a whisper. Lucy swore again. Before she could second guess herself, before she could think twice about all of this being a ruse to keep her from escaping, she reached down. Flynn nearly flinched at her movement, but grasped her forearms when she gripped his. Using all of her body weight, she pulled him to a standing position.

“I can’t do much,” she said between strained breaths, balancing him between the tree and her own body. He grunted, his arm around her shoulder shaking with effort.

“It’s enough.”


	4. Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was in Italy! But so was Coronavirus so...it was an ordeal. Another short chapter, but I hope to update again in the next few days. As always, please leave comments! It's my only motivation to continue this.

They made it to the lifeboat at a painfully slow pace. The door was wide open, and Lucy saw Karl’s eyes go wide as soon as they rounded the corner. Flynn’s breathing came hard and fast.

“What the hell happened?” Karl growled. She leaned Flynn against the door of the lifeboat, his strength hanging on by a thread. If he was being genuine, there’s no way he could chase after her. Her biggest problem at the moment was Karl. The dogs in the distance were getting closer, and Lucy needed to distract him fast.

“Just pull him up, I can’t do it on my own.” Lucy wasn’t used to her voice sounding so commanding. Karl stepped forward, gripping Flynn under his armpits. Lucy waited until Flynn’s body weight was entirely in Karl’s hands.

She looked up, watching as his face twisted, straining with effort. Her eyes never left Karl’s face as she decided the exact moment to make her move. Lucy released her hold on Flynn.

She didn’t look back as she ran away.

Lucy headed towards the city. Her feet pounded on the leaves covering the forest floor, weaving in and out of trees with precision she didn’t know she possessed. She froze at the base of a large tree, hearing footsteps approaching from behind her. She flattened herself against the trunk, silencing her breathing as much as possible. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed there when she heard footsteps behind her. Leaves crunched under steel toed boots, approaching slowly and carefully. Lucy closed her eyes, willing herself to become invisible. She was so tired of running, and even less capable of fighting.

When the footsteps ceased, Lucy let out a long, shaky breath. She barely opened her eyes before she felt a presence behind her. A hand cupped her mouth before an arm circled her torso. She jolted, screaming into the sweaty palm. She felt breath on the back of her head, flinching as she sensed it growing closer. 

“Shh Lucy, it’s me,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. Lucy gasped, twisting around in his arms to face Wyatt. 

“Wyatt.” She smiled, throwing her arms around him. She felt his shoulders shaking softly; he was laughing. It took her a few moments to realize that she was laughing, too. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

“Rufus?” She asked Wyatt, a sliver of fear darting across her mind. Wyatt opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance.

“Someone say my name?” 

Rufus barely had time to process before Lucy launched herself into his arms. The gang’s shouting rang in the distance, but Lucy barely spared it a thought. She pulled back, giving both of her boys a once over for injuries. Lucy noticed Wyatt doing the same. He reached out, tracing the cut underneath her eye with the bed of his thumb.

“What-” 

“It’s fine.” Lucy batted away his hand. His eyes flashed in concern. Lucy felt guilty, but she didn’t have time for their pity, nor did she want to deal with it. She took a few steps back.

“Lucy, your wrists…” Rufus trailed off, his eyes fixed on her body. As if he just noticed, Wyatt did the same. He reached out, and Lucy flinched away on instinct. Her heart began beating more rapidly.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to focus.

“Look, I’ll tell you guys everything, I swear,” She scanned the trees over Wyatt’s shoulder, “But not here. I got away from him but he can't be far behind.”

Wyatt’s stare was intense, his expression a mixture of possessiveness and fury. In a second it was gone, revealing the stoic soldier she knew. He nodded, leading them back towards civilization.

***

“You don’t know what his plan was?” 

They had made it back to the city relatively easily. Lucy was starving, and she could hear her stomach grumble over the sound of the bustling street. She grimaced.

“Like I said, he locked me up in the hotel room the whole time. Karl mentioned something called the ‘Studebaker Building’ our first night here, but that's it.”

“Studebaker?” Rufus said. Lucy nodded,

“He had a meeting there. He was gone for maybe an hour?”

Wyatt turned the corner. Lucy raced to catch up with him.

“Where are we going? Where’s the lifeboat?” She asked, her eyes shifting from Wyatt to Rufus. Rufus tripped over his words, opening and closing his mouth as if deciding whether or not to tell the truth. Lucy reached out, halting Wyatt in his tracks before she turned to Rufus.

“What’s going on?”

Wyatt and Rufus glanced at each other warily.

“You know that gang we sent after Flynn?” Wyatt said, his voice low. Lucy nodded.

“We kind of...owe them something, for getting them to track him down.” Rufus finished speaking with a cough, as if he was hoping the cough would cover up the severity of his words. Lucy’s eyes grew wide, and she punched both men in the shoulder with her fists.

“Have you lost your  _ mind _ ? You owe a debt to the Valley Gang?” Lucy hissed. Wyatt reached out and grasped her shoulders,

“Owed, past tense. We’re paying them now, we just have to make a quick stop.” Wyatt lowered his head to stare into her eyes. He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “Okay?”

She nodded, reluctantly pulling herself from his grasp. 

When they walked, it was in silence. At one point, Wyatt’s arm ceased swinging next to hers, his hand grasping her own. He threaded his fingers through hers as she looked up at him. He ducked his head, his eyes tracing the cobblestone.

“He hurt you.” It wasn’t a question. Lucy supposed it wasn’t meant to be. She wasn’t blind; she saw her own reflection, riddled with evidence of the past day. For some reason, she was tempted to say that Flynn never truly meant to hurt her. She wanted to tell him that, despite what it looked like, Flynn had done nothing to intentionally cause the cuts and bruises on her skin. Her steps faltered as she squeezed her eyes shut. She was defending Flynn. To herself.

_ What the hell is wrong with me? _

“Lucy?” Wyatt’s voice seemed far away, but when she opened her eyes, his face was inches from hers. Lucy looked down at their intertwined hands before slowly pulling away from him. 

“Can we...can we talk about this later?” Her voice seemed weak and distant, nothing like the strong and defiant woman she had forced herself to be with Flynn. “Please?”

Wyatt searched her face for a moment before nodding. He looked back at Rufus.

“This is it,” Rufus said with a deep sigh. His head was tilted up, staring at the wooden hanging sign above the doorway. Lucy slowly turned, tilting her head up as well. It took a moment before her eyes could focus on the black handwritten letters, the light green sign swinging in the wind. 

‘World’s Fair Hotel’


	5. Three Men Slain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just proud of myself for posting despite the fact I'm currently VERY sick lets gooooo

Lucy had tried to explain what this hotel meant. She was met with blank stares from Wyatt and Rufus, apparently completely ignorant to the realities of the country’s first known serial killer. They continued on walking through the lobby, searching for the contact within the gang. 

Before long, the three of them were being led into the belly of the hotel; something Lucy knew to be a very bad idea. The walls and ceiling shifted from wallpaper to concrete, and concrete to dirt. The smell was potent; a mixture of earth and rot. They entered a carved out room that held a cell, two stools, and a wooden desk. She saw Wyatt tense.

“Wait.” She commanded. The men halted, the gang’s contact hesitantly so. Lucy narrowed her eyes at the man. “We won't go any further than this. We may not be from around here, but I know the reputation of this hotel.”

Wyatt looked to the new man, Garrett, and waited for his response. Garrett cleared his throat.

“I assure you, miss, there is nothing-”

“I don’t need your  _ assurances _ ,” She spat, shocking even herself. Intimidation was rarely her game, but judging from the man’s face, she wasn’t doing bad. At all. “I need you to make this transaction somewhere we can trust.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” Garrett turned around, stepping through a hole in the wall she hadn’t seen. The three of them were still outside the room, not quite willing to take the step to enter. She looked at Wyatt and Rufus.

The next moment, Lucy was pushed to the ground, listening to the metal door slam into a lock. She flipped onto her back and stared straight into the barrel of a gun.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” Karl snarled. His finger hovered over the trigger, a self satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Lucy felt her throat start to close with fear. Wyatt and Rufus were shouting something, but Lucy couldn’t hear a thing.

“If you two don’t shut up I’m going to put a bullet in your girl’s head,” Karl said evenly. Surprisingly, his words worked. Lucy narrowed her eyes at Karl.

“You can’t kill me,” she said in a low drawl. Her voice was firm and she forced herself to grin, “Flynn would never allow it.” 

Karl shook his head, Closing his eyes with a scoff.

“You're right. Whatever Flynn's obsession with you is, he’s very adamant about keeping you alive—even while he was bleeding out from his stab wound.”

Lucy saw Wyatt’s eyebrows shoot up from the corner of her eye. Whether it was from shock or admiration, Lucy couldn’t tell which one. 

“Nice aim, by the way. You grazed his artery; didn’t even give him a shot at a quick death.” Though the words were sarcastic, Lucy swore she saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes; as if he silently wished he was the one who had delivered the killing blow to Garcia Flynn. Intrigued, she filed the information away in the back of her head.

“Then why are you here and not trying to save his life?” 

Karl’s smile fell and his gaze turned furious. He took a step towards her, and against her will, she crawled farther away.

“Don’t you think I’d rather be in the 21st century? I’m here because he refused to leave without you.” 

Lucy gaped, unable to control her expression. She grimaced, looking towards the cellar where Rufus and Wyatt were gripping the iron bars. 

For some godforsaken reason, the thought that Flynn was going to die troubled her for the second time today. She should hate him; she should praise the fact that she gifted him a slow and painful death.

Then why does this feel so wrong?

“Don’t you care that he might die?” Lucy finally said. She raised her hands up in surrender and slowly stood up. Karl didn’t stop her, but the barrel of the gun followed her movements. “Go back, take the mothership to the 21st century. Forget about me; show Flynn your loyalty by saving him.”

Karl rolled his eyes as if he was talking to a petulant child. His grip on the gun stayed firm.

“My loyalty isn't with Flynn, it's with his money. Nothing you say will sway me, sweetheart.”

Lucy tried to respond, but she couldn’t find the words to convince him. Before she could speak, Karl continued.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen: You come with me right now,” Karl maintained eye contact with Lucy while he crossed the room to the iron bars. “And I don’t kill your boys.”

Wyatts gaze flickered to Lucy's face before returning to Karl, who was now standing two feet from the cage. Karl smiled, training the barrel of the gun on Wyatts forehead. Lucy couldn’t stop herself from sucking in a sharp breath,

“Stop.” She stepped forward, but Karl sent her a glare in warning. She froze.

“And if Flynn is dead by the time we return,” Karl’s gaze turned menacing and his smirk returned, “I kill them and get to keep you for myself.”

“You piece of shit!” Wyatt slammed against the bars, reaching for the gun. Karl’s reflexes were quick, easily dodging him. 

Rufus grabbed Wyatts shoulders, holding him back with difficulty. He was seething, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. Karl was laughing, truly laughing, and Lucy found herself with no choice.

“I’d hurry up, little Lucy. If he’s not already dead, he will be soon.” 

Lucy was breathing harder now. She felt the tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill. She felt her hands shaking uncontrollably so she gripped her dress as tightly as possible. When she looked up, Karl was approaching her.

“You don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of three men.” He leaned down, whispering in her ear, “do you?”

Lucy looked him in the eye, willing her face to stay emotionless. Karl’s face twisted with anger.

In a flash, he was facing the cage, raising the gun to eye level. Lucy didn’t have the chance to see who he was aiming at before he fired.

The bullet ricocheted, or maybe that was just the sound of a bullet in a metal room. Either way, she heard a high pitched noise and attempted to shield her eyes from the blast. 

He was on her again in a second, his face merely inches from her own.

“COME ON!” He shouted, or spoke, or even whispered. She couldn’t tell with her ears ringing from the gunshot. She looked over Karl’s shoulder, where both Wyatt and Rufus stood tall. She blinked her surprise away; they were both alive.

“That’s your warning shot. If you don’t follow me out that door, the next two go through their heads.” Karl turned around, approaching the large metal frame. Lucy looked at Wyatt and Rufus.

“I have to. I’m sorry.”

They said nothing. When she looked back, Karl was halfway out the door. She took one last glance at her friends before stepping into the hallway. Karl was standing with his arms crossed, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

“Good choice.”


	6. Justify

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy is taken back to the present where she and Flynn have a loud and argumentative heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me, folks, stay with me. Thought it was time to pick up the pace on this one so I hope you like it. Stick around to the end of this one, trust me. I'll try to update again soon, especially if you guys comment showing interest moving forward. Stay healthy, my friends.

Karl kept the gun pointed at her back, as if she had a mind to escape regardless of his threat. Their feet were loud crunching against the dry leaves of the forest, the thick trees doing nothing to mask their approach. 

The lifeboat was exactly where it had been when she ran away, as was her captor. His skin was pale; eyes glassy and unfocused. Karl grasped Lucy’s waist, hoisting her into the lifeboat. She stumbled forward, just narrowly avoiding tripping over Flynn’s body.

“It took you long enough,” Flynn hissed. His hand absentmindedly applying pressure to the wound on his leg as he stared Lucy up and down. She stared at him back, breaths still heavy from adrenaline.

“Hangin’ in there, boss?” Karl shoved Lucy into a seat, buckling her seat belt. She thought about resisting, but quickly abandoned the idea. It became clear to her that the only way she was leaving 1893 was with Flynn.

Fantastic.

When they arrived back in the present, Garcia seemed to have gained some lucidity as he rose to his feet inside the lifeboat. Karl unbuckled Lucy’s seat belt before dropping out of the time machine, lending a hand as Flynn did the same. Once both the men were out, Karl grabbed Lucy’s forearm, dragging her down as well. Flynn stumbled, and Karl swore under his breath.

“Alright Lucy, time to shine.” Karl led Flynn to a wooden bench in the corner of the abandoned church. Tossing the man a pill, Flynn took it, draining the water bottle. She barely processed Karl’s words, not realizing he’d been talking to her.

“Excuse me?”

“He needs medical attention. We can’t go to a hospital but he’s got a guy.” Karl spoke quickly as he gathered supplies, shoving them in a black duffel bag. “Except I’ve gotta go get him. While I’m gone, you play doctor.” He stopped before her, shoving the bag in her arms.

“You’re joking,” She said, staring at the blood trail leading from the lifeboat to the bench.

“I’m not. So take good care of him,” He leaned close to her, lips brushing against her hair as he whispered in her ear, “Because if he dies, I get you all to myself-”

Lucy shoved him away, knocking her with her shoulder as she stormed past him. Without another word, he was gone, leaving her alone with a bleeding, dying, Garcia Flynn.

***

She didn’t know much about treating stab wounds. At least, so she thought. Turned out that after studying human history for her entire life, especially when that history consists of mostly death and suffering, you pick up a few things. Mainly, she maintained steady pressure on the wound and tried to ignore the fact that Garcia Flynn had not taken his eyes off of her since she returned with Karl.

Even now, she felt the heat of his glare on the side of her face. He had been silent for so long that when he spoke, he startled her.

“You stabbed me.” 

It wasn’t a question. He spoke as if he just now came to the conclusion, as if the revelation had finally settled in his mind. Or maybe he had just been too shocked to process the cruelness of the act. Lucy stilled.

“You abducted me,” She replied. When blood started leaking from below the cloth, she readjusted her hold, adding more gauze to the bloodied mess beneath her fingers. They lapsed into uncomfortable silence as she replaced the ruined cloth, sifting through the duffel bag for more supplies.

“So we're even?” Flynn said. She turned back to him, narrowing her eyes.

“Will you let me go?”

“No”

“Then no,” she pushed on the wound harder, pressing down until Flynn's face scrunched up, hissing in pain. “We’re not even.”

Flynn slapped her hand away, grasping the bench until he managed a standing position. Even now, injured and pale, his height was intimidating. She took a step back, wiping the hair from her eyes with the back of her hand. Despite the effort to keep the blood on her hands from staining her face, she failed, drawing a streak of blood above her eye.

“What do you want from me, Lucy?” Flynn said, clutching the back of the bench like a lifeline. He was struggling to stand. Lucy scoffed,

“Are you serious?”

He didn’t respond, ducking his head for her to continue.

“I want it to stop, Flynn. All of it. You know what I want?” She surged forward, kicking away the bloodied supplies at her feet. “I want to go home. Not here, not now, but  _ home.  _ Back to another timeline where my sister is alive, where my job is my passion, and where I’m not threatened at gunpoint and abducted by mercenaries!” She hadn’t realized she was shouting until the echo of her words rang throughout the church. She took a breath, closing her eyes.

“I just want to go home. I want you to let me go.” She hated how exhausted she sounded, but it was the truth. Flynn’s expression was unchanged.

“You know I can’t do that-”

“Why not!?” She yelled. She could’ve sworn she saw him flinch at her outburst. “What use could I  _ possibly  _ be to you?” She glared at him, raking her eyes over his body covered in blood and bruises. “Except for putting yet another target on your back? Giving you more people to chase, to  _ kill _ ; warm bodies to enact all of your deep rooted revenge fantasies. All because you can't resist-”

“Shut up,” He growled, stepping forward on unsteady feet. “You’re in a war, Lucy, start acting like it.”

“I didn’t sign up for this-”

“Neither did I!” His booming voice rang through the empty halls, his furious eyes trained on her. “But we are fighting a war, whether you like it or not. Do you expect me to treat you any differently than you've treated me?”

Lucy narrowed her eyes as she focused on his, noticing for the first time how intense they are. How easy they are to get lost in.

“From the day we met you’ve done nothing but hunt me. What, you expect me to turn around and treat you with kindness? Mercy?” He huffed, backing down just slightly. “It changes people, Lucy. War. I swear I am not this man, parading as a nazi and- and kidnapping women. I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“Everyone always thinks that.”

“You don’t?” He tilted his head in curiosity, his eyes roaming her body. He examined her fists tightening at her sides, her dress muddy and torn. He wondered then exactly what Karl had said to her to get her to return to him in 1893. When he first saw her reappear at the lifeboat, a small part of him had hoped that she’d come back to help him. That she came back because she was...worried.

But then she barely looked at him on the ride back, hesitating to even go near him to tend to his wound. Her fingers twitched as they got near him, as if her body had an innate adverse reaction to him. To be honest with himself, he was disappointed; in Karl and in Lucy. But most of all, he was disappointed in himself for ever hoping she would see him for anything but a monster.

“Everyone is always convinced that their own side is right, so much so that they’re willing to fight and to die for their cause. They do horrible things and justify it. You’re no different.” Lucy spat out the last sentence, hoping it hurt.

“And you are?” Flynn whispered. Lucy stilled, and Flynn took the advantage to speak before she could gather her thoughts. “You’ve done bad things too, justified it as a fight for the greater good. Don’t pretend your hands are clean. You can lie to me but you can’t lie to yourself.” He exhaled, closing his eyes. “I’m trying to save my family, to bring down an organization-” 

“Enough with the manifesto, Flynn! It doesn’t justify what you’ve done. What you’re willing to do.” Lucy turned, anxious to hide the emotions on her face. She was angry, tired, hungry, confused, and for some reason it manifested in tears. 

_ Stop crying _ , she told herself,  _ He will not see you cry. _

Instead, she walked past him, stopping in front of a stained glass window. She traced the characters of the panel, watching as a cloaked man drove a knife into the neck of a pleading woman. She shuttered.

“You’re a monster.” Her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be. Maybe because she didn’t truly believe it. When he spoke, his voice was close behind her.

“You call me a monster, standing there all high and mighty. Look down,” She did as he said, her eyes roaming the red crusted flakes peeling from her hands. “Did you already forget that your hands are still stained with my blood?”

She closed her eyes, allowing one last tear to fall before turning back to him. She leaned back against the wall, allowing it to support her so she didn’t have to do it herself.

“When will it end?” She didn’t know why she even bothered to ask, knowing full well her mission was the same as it had been since the beginning: kill Garcia Flynn. But right here, right now, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking how impossible that seemed. How much she didn’t want to do it.

“I chase you, you chase me. Rittenhouse watches it all from afar as we destroy each other,” Flynn said, eyes tracing the stained glass window over her shoulder.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Lucy hates the sound of her voice, the way she pleads for him. How ironic that she's standing in a church, begging a man to save his own soul. And maybe hers as well.

“Yes it does!” His voice sounds as pained as hers does, and she so easily gets lost in the dark pool of his eyes. All Flynn can hope is that she can’t see through his cracks; his clear cracks that reveal the only emotion he's capable of feeling around Lucy Preston. But he’s lived in extremes of love and hate for so long that they’ve become hard to pick apart, impossible even.

He’s exhausted, laying his palm against the wall next to Lucy’s head for support, careful not to inch too close. He sighs,

“There's only one way this ends and it's ignorant of you to think otherwise,” Flynn said. Lucy grunts in frustration and they’re so close her face takes up his entire field of vision.

“God, Flynn, I don't want to kill you!”

“I don't want to kill you either!” He yells back. She freezes, eyes wide and questioning. Flynn shakes his head, the emotions so loud that he can barely think, barely breathe. He can’t think of what to do next, swearing under his breath and grabbing her face in his hands.

It was so loud, the echoes of their fight, Lucy’s pulse ringing in her ears, all of the voices in her head telling her to run, _ stay _ , run,  _ stay _ . It was all so loud.

Until suddenly it wasn’t, and all she could feel was his mouth crashing down on hers.


	7. Aim Better Next Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found some GREAT history stuff to use going forward and...y'all, I'm excited. So buckle up, I hope you stick with us going forward on this pain train. Enjoy!

It was nothing short of a battle. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her face closer and closer. She knew in her mind that she should pull away, but her personal desires told her otherwise. She felt a burning sensation in her core, a strange mix of hatred and wanting. She told herself that it was that cocktail of emotions that made her stay; that drove her to stand on her toes to deepen the kiss.

He released a slow grunt when he felt her reciprocate, his hands unwinding from her hair and trailing down her back. Lucy brought her hands to his chest in an effort to push him away, but her arms were weak against him; against him and her own hidden desires for him to stay. His hands found her waist and the sensation made her ball her fists into the front of his shirt. It was hate and it was want; it was need and it was loss. Her mind was racing with every single reason why she should push him away. But a stronger, louder voice in her mind was telling her that _ this  _ is what she needed. She hated him; hated him with every fiber of her being. But this was refreshing, new, and she couldn’t help the thrill she felt by doing something so forbidden and unexpected. And it was comforting to finally know that this feeling between them, the connection that drew them back to each other over centuries, was far more than any mission. Their movements were rough, anything but intimate; which is exactly what she needed. This was merely a release of all the tension that had built up since they met; the attraction they knew could never manifest...never grow. It was a war, like everything he did. His hands on her were relentless, as if he had been waiting to touch her like this since the day they met in the flames of the Hindenburg.

When the sound of a lock disengaging echoed throughout the abandoned church, Flynn didn’t recoil like Lucy did. His grip tightened on her face, holding her still as he slowly trailed his lips against hers. Lucy finally found her senses, pushing through her clenched fists. He acquiesced, backing away slowly. They were both breathing hard, as if they had forgotten they needed oxygen in the heat of their kiss. 

Lucy felt him staring at her, but she kept her gaze trained to the ground. She didn’t have the energy to face him after what they just did; didn’t have the capacity to justify her actions. Flynn’s grip tightened on her forearm as if he thought she was seconds from making a run for it. Lucy sighed, feeling the guilt start to creep in. 

Karl rounded the corner trailed by a man she didn’t recognize. He didn’t look like a doctor, hair curly and messy, dressed in a button down and khakis. The two men halted a few feet from them. Flynn’s hand that wasn’t gripping Lucy was laid against the wall supporting him. 

“Why are you standing?” Karl asked. When Flynn did nothing but grunt, he turned to Lucy. “Why is he standing?”

Lucy shrugged, turning her gaze to the floor again.  _ God, why did this feel so awkward? _

“Mr.Flynn-”

“Just Flynn.” Flynn grumbled, finally pushing away from the wall. The doctor nodded, shakily continuing.

“Okay, Flynn, I need to examine the wound before we can do anything.” The doctor motioned to the bench to his right, and Flynn handed Lucy off to Karl before he obeyed. He winced as he sat, placing his injured leg in front of him. The doctor merely glanced at it before nodding, 

“The femoral artery was nicked. You’re lucky. A millimeter to the right and you would have bled to death in minutes.” The doctor laid out his supplies. Flynn flickered his gaze to Lucy, 

“Lucky me.”

“I’ll aim better next time,” Lucy said, narrowing her eyes. Flynn chuckled as he shook his head.

“I’m sure you will, Lucy.”

The doctor continued working, Flynn barely flinching when the sutures began. Lucy stood to the side awkwardly, the ghost of what happened minutes ago still searing her skin. She felt Flynn staring at her, but she kept her eyes trained to the ground, the ceiling, the window, anywhere from him. She began tapping her foot against the ground, uncomfortable with the silence and still being held by Karl. Fortunately, Flynn seemed to get the idea.

“Karl, put her somewhere.” Flynn tossed the half empty water bottle at the man. “The handcuffs are in my jacket pocket.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Somewhere she can sleep,” The doctor chimed in. The three of them gaped at the man, all equally shocked at his boldness. He wiped his forehead, motioning to Lucy. “She’s pale, eyes are sunken and her lips barely have any color. She’s been shivering the past few minutes even though it's humid as hell in here. She needs food and sleep.”

When Flynn didn’t say anything, the doctor cleared his throat.

“Look, I understand your…” He shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between the two men, “situation. But regardless of if she’s a prisoner, that girl will pass out in the next hour unless she's given food and rest. I’m a doctor, and I have a duty of care.”

Flynn raised his eyebrow, but remained silent. His gaze shifted from the doctor to Lucy, finally settling on Karl. He nodded.

“Do as he says. Get her a change of clothes and some food.” Karl nodded, pulling Lucy after him. She stumbled a bit, tripping over the hem of her dress. Karl handed her the water bottle, reaching into a bag and grabbing black sweatpants and a white tank top. He grabbed two granola bars before taking her arm again. She heard low voices speaking behind her as she aimlessly followed Karl’s movements.

“I’d like to examine her as well. Her wrists need to be cleaned and bandaged, as does the cut under her eye.” She heard the doctor say. Flynn sighed quietly,

“I won't pay you for the extra time, but you can if you must. After she’s rested,” Flynn grumbled. 

***

Lucy felt like a new person once she was out of her dress. The sweatpants, sports bra and fleece socks were a blessing after the past few days. Her joy was short lived, however, as Karl turned around as she finished, immediately leading her to the vertical pipe on the wall. She didn’t resist as he handcuffed her left arm to the pipe, leaving her right hand free. She rolled her eyes, tempted to ask yet again how they thought she could possibly escape from two highly trained soldiers.

He had left her alone to sleep on the carpeted floor after she ate the granola bars and drank the water. Perhaps an hour had passed before the door opened, pouring light into the dark room. Someone switched on the lights, revealing the doctor and Flynn. The latter was already looking better, skin less pale and eyes more focused. She looked away quickly, unable to forget what had happened earlier. 

The doctor approached her, crouching down at her side.

“I’m Jake. You are?” His tone was too friendly, too full of pity. She sat up slowly, wincing at the effort. She had dull pain in every joint of her body.

“Lucy,” She said quietly. The doctor nodded, sitting down fully so they were face to face.

“Lucy, I see you have some cuts and bruises. Do you mind if I look at them? Make sure there's no infection or internal bleeding?”

It wasn’t that Lucy objected to the fact, quite the opposite. Her wrists hurt like hell and her whole body felt like an abused pinata. Her eyes flickered to Flynn at the door, surprised he was allowing the doctor to speak to her. There were so many things she could do; stab him, cry for help, steal something from the medical kit-- basically anything she thought Wyatt would do in this situation. But Flynn’s gaze remained confident, as if he was certain he was making the right choice. She knew he cared about her, just not to that extent. The doctor must have mistaken her puzzled look as one of concern, as the man, Jake, moved to block Flynn from her vision.

“I can ask him to leave if you’re uncomfortable. It can just be you and me.”

Jake didn’t wait for her response. He turned to Flynn at the door, voice sounding far more commanding than it had just moments ago.

“Uncuff her, I need to examine both of her wrists. You can wait outside of the door, but you can’t be in here.”

Flynn stalked through the room, stopping inches from where Lucy sat. He bent down slightly,

“I’ll be right outside,” He said, unlocking her cuffs and pocketing them. He turned to the doctor. “Shout if you need anything. You have ten minutes.”

The doctor nodded and Flynn left, shutting the door with a bang. Right as the door shut, Jake sprung into action.

“We don’t have much time,” He whispered, ripping off a section of his coat, a hidden section, and reaching inside. He pulled out two earpieces, holding one out to Lucy. She froze, staring at the small object.  _ This is a trap, it has to be. _

“What?” Lucy whispered, eyes wide in terror and anticipation. Jake finished placing his earpiece before shoving the other one into Lucy’s hand. She merely stared at it before looking back to Jake.

“I’m Agent Murphy with Homeland Security,” He said.

Lucy’s mouth gaped, barely processing his words. With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed Lucy’s earpiece and shoved it in her ear. She heard a low beep as the signal connected. 

“This is a trick,” Lucy said, shaking her head, wanting to be wrong.

“It’s no trick Lucy,” Agent Christopher’s voice sounded beautiful as Lucy adjusted the earpiece. “This is a rescue.”


	8. Fending for Themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our time team really needs to perfect their escape attempts. Anyway, please keep commenting! Its the only thing keeping me writing this story at the moment. Sorry if this one seems a bit rushed, I'm trying to get to some cool stuff I have planned. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and i LOVE seeing you guys comment what you want to see. I'm listening, trust me.

“Oh my god,” Lucy’s voice cracked when she spoke, hands flying to cup her mouth. At the thought of seeing her friends again, she felt a giggle bubble up in her stomach. “Denise?”

“Don’t lose your bearings, Lucy, we’ve still got to get you out of there,” A deep voice said through the earpiece. 

“Wyatt?” She breathed, her mouth turning up in a smile. She turned to Jake, who was purposely minding his own business while preparing a syringe. She furrowed her brows, clearing her throat.

“Okay okay what’s the plan?” She said quietly, unsure of who she was talking to. Murphy placed the syringe on the ground, zipping up his bag.

“ETA?” Murphy whispered. 

“12 minutes,” Wyatt replied. She heard commotion on his end of the comms, and she smiled at the fact that Wyatt was on his way. He was coming. But first, she had to get out of this mess.

“Okay, Lucy, listen to me closely.” He crawled until he was just inches from her face, his eyes boring deeply into her own. “We’re going to call him back in here. You need to act normal, same as you were before.”

Lucy nodded, looking down at the syringe.

“I’m going to stick him with this when he comes in, it should knock him out for about 10 minutes. We’ve gotta fend for ourselves until the team gets here, got it?” 

“And when will the team get here?” She asked, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“We’re 11 minutes out. You can do this, Lucy.” Wyatt said. Lucy nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t actually see her. “Murphy, once you take out Flynn you’re in the clear. Karl’s easy to put down.” 

“Yes, sir.” Agent Murphy settled into a crouch. “Alright Lucy, I’m gonna call him back in here. Ready?”

Lucy exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. Jake nodded in response, winking as he inhaled.

“We’re done here,” He called to the door. After a moment of hesitation, the door squeaked open. Lucy’s stomach dropped when she saw Karl standing in the doorway, not Flynn. He strolled in.

“So, doc, what’s the diagnosis?” Karl smirked. Lucy watched as Jake clenched his fist around the syringe, same thoughts as her running through her mind. As if it needed to be said, Agent Christopher’s voice chimed in through the comms.

“Damn it. Murphy, don’t use the syringe on Karl. You can take him down without it, but you can’t take down Flynn.”

“Flynn’ll hear the commotion, Agent Christopher. It’ll eliminate our element of surprise.” Wyatt responded, tension in his voice.

“Murphy, do not engage Karl with the syringe. That’s an order.” 

“She’ll be fine,” Jake responded after a few moments, cutting off Agent Christopher’s voice. “If you want those wrists to be healed I’d stop chaining her up everytime you want a smoke break.”

Karl narrowed his eyes, kicking Jake’s medical bag with his stupid grin. 

“And you should learn when to bite your tongue, Doc.” Karl spit out the last word. In a flash, Jake was on his feet, shoving Karl into the opposite wall. Karl slammed his fists into Jake's stomach, but the man didn’t waiver as he wrestled him to the ground. 

Lucy didn’t hesitate. She stood, grabbing the syringe and running out of the room into the hallway. She stumbled back, almost falling into a glass display case. Her head was swimming, black spots clouding her vision as she righted herself. She traced her hand along the wall, the weak support keeping her from stumbling as she pushed forward. 

“Wyatt,” Lucy whispered, nearly collapsing against the wall as she stopped to rest. “I have the syringe, where do I stick it?”

“Why do you have the syringe?” Agent Christopher responded. Lucy glanced back into the room where Jake and Karl were still fighting, the sound of fist hitting flesh making her wince.

“Agent Murphy is a bit preoccupied at the moment,” She said, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice. There was a silence over the comms, and she could feel their doubt seeping through. “I know I’m not full strength, but I have to at least try.”

“In the neck if you can,” Wyatt said with a sigh. “But given he’s the size of a Redwood tree, go for his forearm.”

“Got it.” She surged forward, nearly stumbling over the carpet. When she entered the chapel, Flynn was nowhere to be seen. She swore under her breath, eyes trailing across the empty space.

“Well?” Wyatt asked. Lucy shook her head, forgetting once again that he couldn’t see her. The silence in the room felt unnatural. The light was streaming in through the stain glass windows, painting the floor a mixtures of pinks and blues. She gripped the syringe tighter in her hand, moving as quietly as she could. A quarter of the room was obscured by the lifeboat, and Lucy was almost certain that was where Flynn was. Every step, her throat became tighter. With a start, her earpiece came alive. The signal cut in and out as she heard Jake’s voice whispering frantically. 

“Ka-...-ing…-Run…” 

Too afraid to speak, she grimaced as she shook her head in confusion.

“-r Her-...-way-...”

“Lucy-” Wyatt’s voice came through the earpiece loud and clear. 

“What!?” She whispered, the sound reverberating through the large room. She cursed under her breath.

“Karl’s coming for you. Run.” His voice was too calm, as always. Her heart sped up, not wasting a second as she spun on her heel towards the nearest door. She threw it open, and ran directly into a broad chest.

“Leaving so soon?” Flynn said, grinning from ear to ear.


	9. Show You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update! Its a bit short but I wanted to get at least something out to you guys. I have no excuse. Hope everyone stays healthy!

Lucy reared away, stumbling back into the chapel. Her hand with the syringe shot behind her back as she righted herself. 

“We’re 6 minutes out, Lucy, you have to stall him,” Wyatt said in her ear. If she could respond to him, she’d tell him that of course she needed to play for time. Of course, then she’d ask if he had any bright ideas as her mind was coming up blank. Flynn was staring at her hungrily as Lucy’s heart began beating faster and faster. She was so close.  _ So close. _

“Thought it was worth a shot,” Lucy said, breathless. She fumbled with the syringe behind her back, her mind racing with possible ways to strike him. Flynn scoffed.

“As always, I admire your determination.” Flynn shifted his weight to his uninjured leg, his hand gripping the doorway. His eyes shifted to trace movement over her shoulder, and Lucy heard Karl’s clumsy footsteps behind her. Flynn’s smirk dropped slightly at the sight of the man, raking over his bloodied face and wrinkled clothing.

“It was the doctor. He was a plant for her people.” Karl spat a mixture of blood and saliva on the ground. 

“Damn it,” Agent Christopher hissed in her ear. “Damn it, Agent Murphy is down.” Lucy listened to the prolonged silence. “Lucy, I’m so sorry but you’re on your own until we get there. You can do this.” 

Lucy positioned her hand so the syringe was hidden between the folds of her sweatshirt. She listened as Karl’s footsteps approached behind her. When he halted a foot behind her, she narrowed her eyes. With a portion of a plan in her mind, Lucy took a deep breath. 

It was now or never.

_ Now. _

She couldn’t take down the men with strength alone. Not one, and especially not the both of them. Whirling around to face Karl, she raised the syringe, plunging it towards the man’s neck. 

As predicted, the syringe barely made it halfway. Flynn’s hand gripped her wrist mid-swing, her momentum still sending their joined arms towards Karl. The man took a moment to collect himself before reaching for the syringe. As his hand was near her own, Lucy released her grip on the syringe, letting it fall into her outstretched hand below her. With a split second to decide, Lucy aimed the syringe at Flynn’s thigh. 

He recovered quicker than she expected, catching her hand inches from its target.

“Four minutes, Lucy, keep fighting,” Wyatt said in her ear. She was straining against the two men, Flynn eyeing the syringe as he pushed her towards Karl. Lucy released the tension in her body, letting the momentum of Flynn’s push propel her into Karl’s grasp. She landed on him roughly, sending them both stumbling back. In that moment of confusion, Lucy plunged the syringe into Karl’s thigh.

The release was almost immediate. His grip on her arms tightened before they fell entirely, his body hitting the ground with a thud. Lucy stared at his limp body, her breaths loud and fast, shoulders shaking with adrenaline.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Flynn said from behind her. Her weapon was gone, but so was his. Even injured, Lucy knew she couldn’t take Flynn down. But maybe, just maybe, she could keep him fighting long enough for Wyatt to get here. 

“Thought you were done underestimating me,” Lucy breathed, turning to face him. “Apparently not.”

“Five minutes out.” Agent Christopher said. 

“I took down Karl with the syringe,” Lucy said. She no longer saw the merit in hiding her earpiece, Flynn was well aware of her intentions. Flynn cocked his head, smiling a wicked smile. She heard Wyatt sigh in relief,

“And Flynn?” Wyatt asked.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me now, Lucy.” The way Flynn said her name always infuriated her, disgusted by the way it sent shivers down her spine. She felt pride at how she winded him, making his deep voice sound breathy and oddly...light.

“Guess so,” She replied. He sighed, walking towards her,

“You know I can’t let you leave.”

“You don’t  _ let _ me do anything.”

“You know what I want for you,” He said. She knew he was backing her into the wall of the mothership, but his body blocked her from moving anywhere else. “And if you knew the truth, you’d come with me. Willingly.”

“You’re wrong,” Lucy said. Her back hit the mothership, stopping her midstep. “We’ve had this conversation before, Flynn, and you’re even less convincing this time around.”

Flynn exhaled, eyes scanning the church. 

“You’re right. You’re too stubborn; you’ll never let me tell you.” He rose to his full height, no longer slouching over her. “I’ll just have to show you.”

He lunged for her, gathering her in his arms and tossing her into the mothership. She fought back, hard, striking him in the eye, neck, anywhere she could, but she might as well have been punching a wall. 

“Flynn, stop!”

“Lucy!” Wyatt called through her comms. Flynn climbed in after her, shutting the door with a groan. She threw herself into his back, slamming him into the sealed door. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Lucy hissed. Flynn grabbed her shoulders, pushing her into the seat. He buckled the seatbelts before hopping to the controls.

“I told you, Lucy. You wont believe me,” He flipped a switch and Lucy tensed as the machine whirled to life. “So I’m going to show you.”

She barely had time to catch her breath before the world warped around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets just assume that Flynn can pilot the mothership because it felt too awkward to just...insert that old guy (or Emma) into the story.


	10. Death for a Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update, i wish i had a good reason but I really don't. But your comments drew me back in, so please keep them coming so I have the motivation to keep going. Enjoy everyone! I'll have another update soon.

Lucy tumbled out of the mothership despite Flynn’s hold on her waist. The air around her was crisp and clear, carrying the distinct smell of the past she learned to pick up from her earlier missions. They were in a forest, deep in the thick of the woods where nobody would stumble upon a strange machine from the future. Lucy shrugged away from him, scanning the trees around her.

“Where are we?” she asked, wiping the dirt from her pants. He never did explain where he planned to take her, not after tossing her into the time machine just minutes before her people were coming to rescue her.

“After all this time and you still ask the wrong question,” Flynn scoffed, shutting the mothership door. Lucy sighed.

“Fine,  _ when _ are we?” She took measured steps away from him, but no matter how far she strayed he always seemed to be right there next to her.

“That's better.” His mouth grew into a triumphant smile, one that made Lucy roll her eyes. “March 5, 1770, just before dawn.”

Lucy froze. Flynn had pushed forward through the treeline, and Lucy had to quicken her steps to catch up with him. Every part of her body wanted to move in the other direction, to jump back in the lifeboat and pray she could figure out her way home. But if the past few days have taught her anything, it's that she could never outrun him; she’d have to outsmart him instead.

“Let me guess, we’re just outside Boston?”

“Yup” Flynn glanced at her, gauging her reaction. 

“Really, Flynn? The Boston Massacre?” Lucy was so exhausted that she could barely keep up with him. “What exactly is this going to prove?”

He didn’t answer her, eyes staring straight ahead as he led them through the woods. It didn’t take long for them to stumble upon a house. He pulled her down roughly behind a flower bush a few feet from the property. She fell to the ground unceremoniously, knees smacking against a root protruding from the dirt.

“Ow-” she began to complain, but was silenced by Flynn’s hand flying up to cover her mouth. She reared back, but his other hand cupped the back of her head. She shot daggers at him with her stare.

“Look,” he whispered, and she just barely felt his breath against her cheeks. She followed his gaze, spotting two men collecting firewood just beyond the cottage. He looked back at her with a smug look, and Lucy rolled her eyes. The men moved on after a few minutes, venturing deeper into the woods. Flynn’s eyes trailed after them, not releasing his grip on her. After a few moments, Lucy huffed, reaching up and biting down on his palm. He reared his hand back, staring at her with an incredulous look.

“You bit me.” It wasn’t a question, and Lucy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You kidnapped me. Again,” she challenged him, resisting the urge to put her hands on her hips and size him up. He stared at her curiously for a few moments before Lucy grew impatient under his scrutinizing stare.

“What?” she asked in a hush tone.

Flynn snapped out of it, shaking his head clear and mumbling “nothing,” before turning back to the house. 

“So,” Flynn rubbed his hands together for warmth, the crisp winter air biting at their skin, “which color do you prefer?”

Lucy dismissed him with a wave, and Flynn set off to gather the clothing. He returned in minutes with a stay, under dress, and dress, along with a suit. He dumped the clothes on the ground. Lucy stared at the heap, eyes flicking up to him and back down, noting the way his cheeks turned slightly redder as the silence grew. 

“So I guess I’ll just…” he trailed off, eyes darting everywhere but her. Lucy sighed, motioning for him to turn around. His embarrassed demeanor was almost laughable as he gathered the suit in his hands and practically dove behind the nearest tree.

Flynn hurried to change his clothes, not that it took long at all. It was a simple pair of trousers with a shirt and an overcoat along with a matching burgundy tie. He had snatched a black hat for good measure, securing it on his head. He leaned against the tree and listened to the fabric rustling under Lucy’s fingers, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He tried to think of anything other than what happened at the church but failed. Miserably.

Had she meant to deepen the kiss like she did? To claw through his hair as desperately as he raked her skin? He had melted under her touch, and it made Flynn squirm to think about how easily he came apart underneath her stare. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, remembering the feel of her lips, her hands, her skin. He tried to stop his urge to sneak a peek at her now as she changed just feet away from him, using all of his willpower to be a decent man for once, though he supposed that ship had sailed for him in Lucy’s eyes long ago. 

He opened his eyes as he heard a throat clear behind him. He emerged from his hiding spot, seeing Lucy with her arms crossed in front of her. Her underdress and dress were on, the latter pooled around her torso with the corset open at the back. He felt his nerves spike.

“You know I can’t do it myself so just…” she motioned behind her, cheeks flaring with discomfort. “Just lace it up.”

She turned around and Flynn couldn’t seem to make his feet move. He shook his head, grabbing the strings in his hands and doing his best to replicate what he had seen when he unlaced it before. It had felt so different then, so foreign, nothing like he felt right now. Days ago he had rushed to pull his hands away, as if merely being in the vicinity of her body was something forbidden; wrong. In many ways, it still was. 

Even with the cold breeze rushing between them, it felt like he was inches away from touching a glowing iron, pulsing red with heat from a flame. That warmth drew him in as he laced her up higher, pulling the strings taught at the top. She inhaled sharply, gathering herself as she pulled on the rest of her dress. He was in a trance, letting his hands fall away slowly when she turned to face him. She nodded, and they were off.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves walking through downtown Boston. As much as she hated it, the time travel, Rittenhouse, Flynn, Lucy couldn’t keep herself from marveling at the houses and buildings and the hustle and bustle of pre-revolution America. There were soldiers lining the streets, women in their intricate dresses laughing on the arms of their husbands. Lucy smiled as three boys rushed past her, ruffling her skirt and calling a quick “apologies, ma’am!” to her as they continued their game. 

Flynn glanced at her, catching her soft smile.

“It’s a shame, really, what’s about to happen to them.” He pressed. Lucy ignored him, electing to trace the movements of a ship just entering the harbor. “Not much longer now, a few hours tops.”

Lucy glared at him, widening the empty space between them as she walked. She didn’t bother to ask where they were going, instead following just behind Flynn as he led the way. Soon they arrived at a pub and Flynn led her to a table in the corner by a window. A barmaid approached, and Flynn ordered two beers before Lucy could say anything. 

“You see that boy?” Flynn pointed out the window and Lucy followed his finger. Lucy squinted, focusing her stare at a small shop across the street. A young, brown haired boy sat on a bench next to the gravel street, crouched over a desk. His hands fiddled with a wooden machine, his fingers tracing the ivory mold.

“What about him?” Lucy asked, leaning back so the barmaid could place the beers on the table. Flynn looked back to her, taking his beer in his hand.

“That’s Samuel Maverick,” he said, sipping his beer. Lucy’s lips parted in shock, her eyes turning back to the window to spot the boy once more. “Gauging from your reaction, I’m sure you know that he’ll be dead in less than 24 hours from now. Killed.”

“Of course I know that, Flynn. He’s a victim of the massacre. An innocent boy.” Lucy glared at him.

“Exactly.”

“Why are you showing me this? What do you have to prove?” Lucy clenched her fists on the table, unable to force out the image of the young boy lying dead in her mind.

“You said something to me before, in the church.” His words made her thoughts freeze, her skin grow cold. The church. How could she have done something so stupid? She couldn’t force out the memory of his hands on her, her back against the wall-  _ stop, stop thinking like that.. _

He was looking at her in that awful way he does, as if the sun itself could be in the room yet he’d still be staring at her. “You said that you never asked for this. That you wanted to go back to your old life.”

“I do.” Lucy’s voice caught in her throat, and she wondered if the memory of their kiss was as alive in his mind as it was in hers.

“I’m here to prove to you that the old life you lived was a lie. That this is your fight, and it always has been.” 

“How does showing me that boy prove anything to me? You know as well as I do that we can’t try to save him,” Lucy hissed, finding herself leaning closer to him across the table.

“We’re not here to save him. You’re here to witness the first victim of a legacy that your family has killed to protect.” His words were firm and strong, and strangely calculated

“My family? What are you talking about?” She said, following him as he rose from the table. Soon, they were back on the street, and somehow the sun was already dipping below the horizon.

“You keep saying that you want the killing to end; that this fight is something that you and I can just abandon,” he whispered, eyes trailing the people that shuffled around them. 

“It is.” Lucy said as Flynn grabbed her elbow, pulling her along with him. “You’re here because Rittenhouse took away your family, but nobody ever said that revenge would grant you peace.”

They crossed the street to a park, and Flynn stopped just under a giant tree with leaves just starting to turn green.

“Someone did, Lucy. You did.”

“Excuse me?” she gaped, but never got an answer. A chorus of shouts drew their attention to the main square, and a grim look crossed Flynn’s face.

“It's showtime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is set before Lucy found out that her father (and mother) are Rittenhouse, so keep that in mind. Stay tuned, folks! Some good stuff coming up.


	11. Riddled With Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love your comments so so much. I actually had some motivation to write this week so enjoy!

Lucy had studied the Boston Massacre at length. She knew the victims, the perpetrators, the gun used to fire the first shot; everything. But none of the history books had explained just how green Samuel Maverick’s eyes were, or how many happy families were gathered on the street that evening. It was uncharacteristically warm for Boston in early March, and the people of the town were basking in the beautiful evening. She walked arm and arm with Flynn, her steps faltering as they grew closer to the shouts. They turned right on King Street, molding against the brick wall that lined the Boston Custom House.

This is where it will happen.

“That’s him,” Lucy said, pointing to a soldier on guard duty by the building, “John Goldfinch.” The soldier was being confronted by a man, one she assumed to be Edward Garrick, the man that accused Goldfinch and started the entire confrontation that led to the massacre. Flynn nodded, keeping a cautionary hand on her arm. She couldn’t tell if it was for her safety or for his, but she didn’t truly mind it; not as much as she wished she did. 

As the argument continued, more men approached the soldier until a crowd began to form. There was shouting and soon there was pushing, fighting broke out; soldiers against citizens. Lucy winced as she watched the scene, feeling as if she were waiting to witness an execution. In many ways, she was. Her eyes were drawn to the end of the street where a curious Samuel Maverick wandered toward the crowd. His dark curly hair was falling over his eyes, his neck craning to try and spot the action. He was just a boy. A curious, little boy.

“I don’t want to see this, Flynn.” She pulled on his arm but his grip only tightened.

“Not yet,” he said, his gaze trailing after the reinforcements that were arriving from the nearby barracks. There were seven soldiers approaching, each armed with bayonets. He gestured to the men and Lucy found them as they pushed through the growing crowd. “Those are the soldiers dispatched from the 29th regiment.”

“I know.” Lucy glared, unable to keep her eyes away from where the men aimed their bayonets. There had not yet been orders to fire.

“Do you know who led them?” Flynn turned towards her. 

“That’s Thomas-”

“Preston. Captain Thomas Preston.” Flynn finished, waiting to see her reaction. Lucy felt the realization simmer in her stomach, but brushed it aside as she always had. Captain Thomas Preston was infamous for his actions that night, potentially ordering his men to fire on civilians. Never once had she truly entertained the thought that he was connected to her.

“Preston is a common name,” was all Lucy could think to say. She openly stared at the man now, watching his movements with interest. He shoved men aside, waving his bayonet at anyone who dared to come close.

“You don’t honestly believe that, not after everything you’ve seen,” Flynn said. He was right. She didn’t believe her own lies, but it was all she had left. 

“Why are you doing this?” she murmured, watching the tension in the crowd grow. People were shouting ‘fire’ now, but they were all shouts from the crowd begging the men to stand down. She could barely follow the chaos. It was a powder keg, and it was just seconds from blowing.

“These deaths can end, Lucy, just like you want them to.” He forced her to look at him, putting pressure on her cheek. “But it won't. Not until you face who you are”

“Face who I am? You’re not making any sense.” She scanned the crowd once more, noting the rise of tension. “We should go-” 

“Your family, your legacy, it's Rittenhouse. All of it. Your mother, your father, Noah, they are grooming you to be their leader,” Flynn hissed. Lucy stared at him blankly.  _ Her family? Rittenhouse? _ “Think about it. Your father, Thomas Cahill, is a prominent member of Rittenhouse. Why else would they have chosen you for this job? Why else would your journal be the key to defeating them?”

Lucy pushed away from him, shaking her head as she turned the corner. Flynn followed close behind.

“Thomas Preston is a powerful member of Rittenhouse, and he is your ancestor. That man right there is your blood, your family, and he orders his men to fire on the innocent civilians tonight in the name of Rittenhouse. You know the truth, Lucy. You know I’m right. I am not your enemy.”

She was gasping for air now, the weight of the night pressing down on her lungs. Her dress was suddenly too tight, her vision less clear than before. But he wasn’t wrong. Ever since the first night she was sent on a mission, it never made sense. Why her? Her mother’s recovery, the sudden appearance of Noah, of her father, it never made sense. It was too coordinated; too planned. The erasure of one person sparked the emergence of three, and it had always seemed to Lucy less like an accident and more like a sacrifice. 

“So what if this is my family?” She whirled to face him, a sudden energy in her turmoil. She grasped onto it tightly, allowing it to fuel her rage. “So what if my past is riddled with evil? I am  _ not _ my family, and I sure as hell will not be punished for their sins.”

Gunshots rang through the square, blood curdling screams following close behind. Neither of them even flinched at the sound, and soon there was chaos all around. Flynn pulled her into an alley just beneath a lantern.

“The killing won't end until we face our demons, Lucy.” The dim yellow light illuminated half of Flynn’s face, and for once his expression was soft. “And I’m making you face yours.”

***

The night was somber. Horses rushed by on the cobblestone outside of their room, carrying the injured men to the nearest hospital. The shouts hadn't yet stopped, even long after Lucy and Flynn had checked into a hotel for the evening. She ignored him on the walk through town, mind searching for a reason that Flynn was wrong. It wasn’t that she believed him; not fully, at least. She didn’t allow herself to accept that her entire family was in a plot to erase her sister from existence so they could emerge more powerful than before, but she didn’t dismiss the idea, either.

“What did I tell you?” Her voice broke the silence that had stretched for almost two hours. Flynn seemed shocked to hear her voice, sitting down on a wooden chair in the corner of their room.

“Excuse me?”

“You said I told you that revenge would give you peace.” Lucy stepped toward him, shoulder leaning against the banister of the bed. “I never did that. Not yet.”

Flynn sighed, turning his head to stare out the window. His finger traced the wooden table absentmindedly, his other hand propping his chin on his fist. He looked almost peaceful this deep in thought; nothing like the man she knew. 

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?” he finally said. “You didn’t seem to take my last truth bomb very well.”

“I don’t care.” Lucy cut him off. She crossed to sit on the edge of the bed facing him. “I’ve thought about it. All of it. And I just,” she raked her hands through her hair, “I’ve been lied to for so long, I just need the truth.” And for some reason, Flynn was the only person she trusted to actually give it to her. He never lied to her; never. It's what made being with him so much easier than anyone else.    


Flynn hesitated for only a moment before turning his body to face her.

“Brazil. Christmas Eve, 2014. I was in some run down bar mourning my family, drowning myself in beer,” his eyes were unfocused, locked in place somewhere far away. “Honestly, I think I was just waiting for something to give me a sign. A sign to live...a sign to die. I was waiting for a reason that I shouldn’t walk to my pitiful apartment right then and just...end it.” 

Lucy swallowed, playing with the hem of her dress in her hands. She tried not to look at him with pity, to see him as anything other than her enemy. But that ship had sailed long ago.

“I don’t even remember you walking in, you were just suddenly...there,” he finally looked up at her, tears brimming his deep brown eyes. “Asking me if the seat next to me was taken. It was ridiculous, really.” He scoffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“Well, I think its just being polite,” Lucy said under her breath, and Garcia Flynn came the closest to true laughter than she’d ever seen. She caught her heart as she felt it soar into her throat. 

“I had been on that barstool for three days straight and not a single soul even considered approaching me.” A smile played on his lips again. “Until you. You told me that you were a friend. You said my name and it was the first time I’d heard it in...in months. I didn’t realize until that moment how inhuman I felt. You told me that we would work together, that we’d do amazing things. That I’d sacrifice everything for my family and die a hero because of it, and the way you looked at me-” his voice cracked, but he quickly disguised it as a cough. “It wasn’t your words that convinced me, Lucy. I didn’t give a damn about dying a hero.” He stood up and Lucy found herself rising to her feet with him.

He crossed the few feet that separated them, and Lucy fought the urge to meet him halfway.

“It was the way you looked at me. The way you talked to me like I was someone you lo-” he caught himself, looking down to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets. After a moment he sighed in defeat, shaking his head as he stared back into her eyes. Lucy gripped her skirt in her fists, feeling the need to reach out to comfort him but knowing it was the last thing he was asking for right now.

“Like I was someone you loved. And for a fleeting moment I thought that maybe there was a chance that this incredible woman had traveled through time to save my soul.” He raised his hand to brush his finger against her cheek. Lucy blinked at the softness of his touch, of the strength in his words. “When even I believed that there was nothing left of my soul to salvage.”

Lucy's eyes were lost tracing his skin. They were standing so close that Lucy could see every flicker of emotion as it passed over his face, and he could see the way she stared up at him now the same way she had looked at him in that bar, as if she wanted to hold on to him tightly and never let go. 

“And then you kissed me,” he whispered, dipping down so his lips graced her skin. He placed a kiss against her cheek, his mouth feather light against her skin. “Just like that.” His voice was low and breathy, and he pulled away so slowly that Lucy had more time than usual to decide that she was about to make the same mistake. Again.

She caught his face in her hands and a knowing smile grew on his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and that drove her insane. He closed the distance in an instant, the truth of his confession hanging heavily in the air around them. He sighed against her lips, hoping she knew that every single word he said had been the truth, that every moment since that day had been torture without her staring at him like he knew she could. Her hands found his hair the moment his hands gripped her waist, and his mouth moved wildly over hers. Soon they were moving, backing up into the bed and collapsing in a heap of 18th century clothing. He felt the conflict in her movements, the way she pushed against him with the same strength that she pulled him close. He had no such hesitation, never doubting for a second that  _ this _ is what he wanted. 


	12. Deep Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to Thealocksly for personally dragging my ass out of writers block with a wonderful prompt. You guys can find me on Tumblr under the same name if you want to message me more prompts (pls do). Anyway, I was so happy to see all the comments on the last chapter so keep em coming! Enjoy :)

They didn’t stop; crawling back onto the bed until Lucy’s head found the pillow. Flynn settled above her, his hands on either side of her head as he trailed kisses over her lips, down her neck. She was breathing heavily, stomach twisted in knots of pleasure and confusion.

His lips found hers again, placing playful bites at the edge of her lips. Lucy sighed, wanting with every bone in her body to feel Flynn’s touch without the guilt she knew was going to follow. His hands found her waist and she responded by snaking hers under his shirt, tracing the muscles of his torso and grazing the raised skin of scars. 

His movements were rough, but so were hers. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, to look at her enemy and crave the feeling of his hands on hers. But she had been told what to do for so long by so many people, first her mother, then Mason Industries, and now a lineage of Rittenhouse psychopaths that believed she was destined to fall in line; to lead them. She savored this feeling of rebellion, of stepping out of her dictated life. At this moment, nobody was telling her what to do.

Soon the heat became too much, and Flynn knew that they were hurtling towards a point of no return. They were walking on the edge of a knife, and Lucy felt the tension in the hesitation of his movements. Their bodies slowed, their kisses becoming longer and deeper. When he pulled away, his stare was unbreakable. Her hand cupped his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. He opened his mouth to ask her a question but never got the chance.

Gunshots tore through the air, shaking the entire hotel room. In seconds, Lucy and Flynn were on their feet and rushing to the window.

“That’s not supposed to happen, right?” Flynn asked, still breathless. Lucy nodded, squinting at the street below.

“Definitely not.”

Lucy didn’t know exactly when she became the type of person to run towards the sound of gunfire. They rushed down the stairs, tumbling outside and onto the sidewalk. It was the middle of the night, and no historical account Lucy ever read had said there was a second round of shooting. This was something else. History had changed.

“You there!” A deep voice called. Lucy and Flynn turned around, eyes met with three muskets. 

“Calm down,” Flynn said carefully, raising his palms at the men. They were soldiers, their uniforms glistening in the moonlight. Lucy recognized them; Goldfinch and Captain Preston himself, glaring at Lucy and Flynn over their muskets.

“What is your business here?” Preston asked, lowering his weapon. 

“My wife and I were merely out for a stroll.” Flynn stepped forward, angling his body so he partially shielded Lucy from the line of fire.

“It’s the middle of the night.” Preston regarded Lucy suspiciously over Flynn’s shoulder. She joined Flynn where he stood, looping her arm through his.

“I was too anxious to sleep; so distraught at what happened earlier,” Lucy said, feigning a frown. 

“I recognize them, sir.” The man she knew was Goldfinch stood up straighter.

Preston raised his eyebrow, his gaze never leaving Flynn. Lucy didn’t blame him; the man always looked threatening, and Lucy willed for once that Flynn didn’t look so damn intimidating.

“Recognize them from where, Captain-Lieutenant?” Preston asked, stepping closer to where they stood.

“Moments before the fighting broke out, right before you arrived. They could be spies,” Goldfinch said. Lucy’s mouth would have dropped in shock had she not gotten so used to the insanity that was her daily life. Still, she felt a jolt of terror.

“I assure you, Captain, we are no such thing.” Lucy attempted to keep her composure. Flynn less so, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.

“You were present at the square and just so happen to be out for a stroll when a second round of fire occurs?” Captain Preston narrowed his eyes, motioning to his men. “Seize them.”

Lucy gripped Flynn’s arm before he could do anything destructive, yanking his body to her side. He whirled on her, and Lucy shook her head sharply. The men were armed soldiers, but more-so, they had been the ones to change history; Lucy was determined to find out why. 

***

The irons placed on their wrists were immensely uncomfortable, and Lucy winced at her every movement. She was almost relieved when they finally arrived at the barracks, ushered through the cast-iron gates with bayonets poking at their backs. Flynn mumbled the entire way, and though Lucy could barely make out his words, she could’ve sworn she heard him say ‘puny’ and ‘pathetic’ as he shot daggers at the back of Captain Preston’s head. 

They marched through room after room before they were finally led into the dungeons. Lucy and Flynn approached the corner where Captain Preston unlocked the door to a cell. A very, very small cell.

“You’ll be questioned about your association with the Patriot cause in the morning,” Captain Preston said. Goldfinch took his time releasing the iron shackles from their wrists. Flynn watched the two guns that were still trained at their backs with caution.

“I assure you that you’ve made a mistake,” Flynn insisted. “We’re loyalists, Captain, we wish only to serve the crown.” They were pushed into the cell, stumbling into the far wall. The two men held their guns at the ready.

“I do not make mistakes, _ Patriot _ ,” Preston spat. “Do not fret. Should you be proven wrong then you  _ will _ answer to the crown, and the crown alone.”

The door slammed shut, enclosing Flynn and Lucy in the small cell. Flynn swore colorfully as he flung his fist against the bars, fumbling with the locking mechanism to no avail. Lucy closed her eyes, willing her body to relax.

It was slow at first, the air growing heavy around her, her breaths coming shorter and quicker. She felt her lungs constrict beneath her corset, the heat building underneath her skin.

“Lucy?” she barely heard Flynn’s voice above her desperate intakes of breath.

_ No no no no, please don’t do this now,  _ she begged herself, backing into the far corner. Her hands rested against either wall, feeling them close in around her. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, if that was possible.

“Lucy, what’s happening?” Flynn’s words made her flinch, pressing herself further against the corner. 

_ You’re trapped,  _ a menacing voice broke through her panting,  _ You’re trapped in this cage and you’ll never get out. _

She pushed her palms against the cement, crying out in defeat when the walls didn’t budge.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispered, her nails digging into the walls.  _ Why did you tell him that? Why are you being so weak? _

A knowing look crossed over Flynn’s face, and he slowly stepped closer to Lucy where she cowered in the corner. He reached out, placing an arm around her shoulder-

“Please don’t,” she breathed, shrugging away from his touch.  _ Don’t let him see you weak, stop letting him see you like this.  _ “Please don’t touch me. I need-I need…”  _ room to breathe, an open field, a goddamn key. _

Flynn jerked away. Lucy slid down to the ground, tucking her knees into her chest. Flynn crouched down beside her. He recognized her actions; he would recognize them anywhere. Panic attacks were common in soldiers, no matter how much they wished the opposite were true. Flynn couldn’t even count how many men had hyperventilated with their first, second, or even tenth brush of battle. He always thought it would get easier, but it never did.

“Lucy,” he whispered, his tone low and soothing. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. He reached out, slowly threading his fingers through hers. She fought the instinct to shrug away from him, allowing Flynn to tighten his grasp in hers. “Lucy, I need you to look at me.”

She did as he said, her stare hopping from one of his dark eyes to the other. He tightened his grip, then released it seconds later.

“Breathe with me, inhale when I squeeze your hand, exhale when I let it go. Can you do that for me?” Flynn asked, his eyes searching hers. Lucy nodded slowly, the panic already starting to slip away. “I’ll do it with you. Ready?” 

She nodded again.

He breathed in loudly, squeezing her hand. She breathed with him on instinct, watching her hand in his, waiting for him to release it. He did, and they exhaled together in the darkness. They repeated it, over and over again, until her breaths came naturally at the same pace as his. The terror was still there, but she could almost forget it as she traced the face of the man before her. He was patient, still squeezing her hand to dictate their joint breaths long after her panting subsided.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She thought back to the past few days, how every second had been a battle with herself over the man she wished she wasn’t falling for. She thought about her life, how everything had changed the second Flynn had entered it. How everything seemed so insignificant compared to him; so singular and meaningless. He was everything he wasn’t supposed to be, and everything she needed. 

“No,” she finally responded. Tentatively, Flynn reached out again to place his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled into his side, dropping her head against his chest and feeling his heartbeat against her ear. His finger traced circles on her shoulder, his cheek pressing against the top of her head. Their other hands were still laced together, Flynn squeezing them every once in a while, reassuring her that he was still there for her; that he would always be there for her.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. She closed her eyes, feeling him squeeze her hand once more. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lucy. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming from a real live claustrophobic person, I call bullshit that someone hugging you closer in the trunk of a car would make you feel better (cough cough season 2 ep. 2). This is more like it; the last thing a claustrophobic person wants during a panic attack is for someone to squeeze them even tighter. But thats just me. ANYWAY I love seeing your comments so tell me how you feel below!


	13. The Edge of Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so happy to see this reach over 100 kudos! Hope everyone is staying safe in this craziness. I may start creating a schedule for posting once a week to keep myself in check, apologies for the randomness of posting. Anyway, you know the drill: comment, kudos, and enjoy!

He was done for. 

The moment her panicked breaths tore through the air terror shot straight through him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make everything better for her. He felt her pain as his own, rushing to her side with an urgency he hadn’t felt for another person since-

_ Stop, don’t think like that. _

He cared about her. He cared about her more than he ever wished to admit. Having her in his arms like this was torture without knowing how she truly felt about him. He knew he had made mistakes. As he eased her out of her panic, he couldn’t help himself for feeling pride at the way she breathed with him so easily.

It felt like they had been silent for hours before he decided to finally speak. 

“So,” he said softly. She inhaled sharply at his words, and he knew she was awake. She didn’t acknowledge him, head still pressed against his chest. “Are we going to talk about this?”

“About what?” she asked. Flynn furrowed his brows.

“Us, Lucy.”

She sighed, pulling away from him. His chest instantly felt cold without her body against his.

“It’s not like we have much else to do at the moment,” he insisted, shifting to face her. He knew right now might not be the best time, but he couldn’t ignore the questions swimming in the back of his mind. Was she truly falling for him as he was falling for her? Did she allow herself to surrender to him as easily as he surrendered to her? 

She eyed the bars of their cell carefully, running her hand along the iron. He traced the profile of her face; so gentle and kind.

_ I don’t deserve her. _

“What about us?” she spoke quietly, as if her own body was fighting the words leaving her mouth. Flynn sighed.

“You can’t be serious.”

She turned to him, feigning obliviousness.

“I never struck you as one to hide from your problems, Lucy,” Flynn continued, dipping his head in her direction. 

“I’m not hiding from anything.” Lucy stood up, brushing off her skirt. Flynn’s eyes trailed her lazily.

“Then you’re in denial,” he said. She shot him a glare.

“I’m not.”

Flynn’s mouth turned into a smirk. He stayed silent, letting Lucy simmer in her own thoughts.

“We don’t need to talk about us, because this,” she gestured between them, “can’t happen.”

“Then why did you kiss me?” Flynn asked. He was finished dancing around the subject, knowing that this discussion would go nowhere without a slight push. Her mouth fell open.

“You-” she started, rearing back to collect her thoughts before facing him again. “You kissed me, first.”

“And you kissed me back.” Flynn rose to his feet, keeping his eyes locked on her. “Why?”

“It was just the heat of the moment.” Lucy grew sheepish under his stare, unable to keep herself from shivering at his intensity.

“You don’t believe that for a second. Why did you do it?” he pushed. He was approaching her in slow, steady steps. In the small cell, he was upon her in seconds.

“I don’t know, Flynn.”

“You do know, you just can't admit it.” 

“I can’t tell you because I can’t explain it!” Her arms flew up in exasperation, struggling to keep her voice below a shout. “I know that for some messed up reason, I care about you. I feel guilty for stabbing you, but I feel even angrier at you for kidnapping me. I hate myself for feeling the way I do, and I _ despise  _ myself for acting on it. I just want everything to go back to normal, to when I was good, you were bad, and nothing else mattered.”

Flynn straightened to his full height, staring at her behind hooded eyes. He blinked slowly as he stepped back.

“Because maybe then I’d be able to forget about how I feel,” Lucy continued softly. She couldn’t look anywhere but the ground. “Maybe I’d be able to forget about how you change me, and sometimes I think it's for the better. That I’d never felt brave until you came into my life and forced me to be strong.” Her voice grew louder now as she took measured steps forward. “I want to forget about how you’re the only person in my life who has never underestimated me, and how your unpredictability, the way you challenge me, is...exciting. Different. I want you close, chasing me while I chase you,”  _ heading towards something inevitable.  _

She was glaring at him now, furious eyes digging into his. Lucy’s words came so fast that she was breathless. “It’s infuriating because I like who I am when I’m with you and I can’t stop my feelings for you from running wild when you look at me like you do. Everything about you is wrong for me and I hate that I can’t stop myself from needing you. You-you drive me crazy!”

“Your feelings?” Flynn repeated. Lucy punched him in the shoulder so hard that he was pushed into the iron bars. “What was that for?”

“Obviously I have feelings for you, you idiot!”

“How sweet.” Thomas Preston’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

They whirled around to face him.

“Captain Preston,” Lucy said as she reached up to grip the bars. Preston nodded, trailed by a guard Lucy didn’t recognize.

“I was notified of commotion in the cells. I had a feeling it’d be you two.” He passed a judging glance between the two. “Are you ready to confess?”

“There is nothing to confess,” Lucy said, her patience tapering at the edge of fury. The captain hesitated before digging around in his pocket, his hand emerging with a key. He unlocked the cell door, lunging at Lucy. He pulled her out of the cell, the other soldier grabbing Flynn and restraining him in his arms.

Preston slammed Lucy against the wall at a remarkable speed, his hands curling around her throat. Flynn was shouting behind her, but her head was still swimming from being knocked against the wall.

“Many men are hesitant to hurt women. I have no such reservations,” he hissed in her ear. Lucy struck him with her fist, but her blows were weak against him. “In fact, I think they benefit from a harsh lesson now and then, don’t you agree Edgar?”

The soldier, Edgar, nodded, struggling to subdue Flynn. Lucy’s eyes shifted to him in panic. 

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Flynn snapped. He looked like he was about to pounce before a third soldier entered, holding a gun to his head. 

“Tell me about the Patriot cause.” Preston’s nose was inches from Lucy’s. She returned his furious stare.

“No.”

He tightened his grip around her neck.

“String ‘em up,” Preston said to his soldier. Flynn fought against him despite the gun being held at his back.

“Lucy!” He shouted. She met his eyes over the captain’s shoulder, shaking her head slightly. 

“You won’t be doing that, Captain.” She shared a slight smirk over Preston’s shoulder. Flynn knew that look. He knew that look and, god, did he love it.

She had a plan.

Preston raised his eyebrows at her, sneering confidently.

“And why is that?”

“Rittenhouse has other plans for us,” She let her words sink in, watching the recognition paint across the man’s face. She delivered the final blow. “As they do for you.”

Preston let his hand slide from her throat. Maintaining the dignity she had left, Lucy fought the urge to massage her neck where it was sore. Flynn relaxed behind them, only now piecing together her plan.

“Rittenhouse?” He whispered. Lucy nodded, leaning back against the wall. 

“We came here tonight looking for you,” Flynn said. He fought off the soldier easily, joining Lucy at her side. The man who was holding Flynn drew his weapon. Two rifles were pointed at them now, and Lucy couldn’t help but stare down the barrel inches from her face. 

“You’re liars.” Preston shook his head. “Rittenhouse is merely an idea-”

“It will come to pass in the coming years. David is seeking worthy men, men like you.” Lucy dipped her head at him, watching his confusion resolve into contentment.

“Like me?”

“Rittenhouse is very interested in you, Thomas Caolan Preston. You must let us report back to our people, to tell them that you followed their orders by shooting at those men last night. You passed our test.” Lucy held her breath, hoping her assumption was right, hoping her lie was convincing enough. Flynn’s fingers brushed against hers and, without thinking, she intertwined her hand with his. Preston was quiet, considering.

“Lieutenants,” he finally called as he drew away. “Free these kind people.”

Lucy released a shaky breath, feeling Flynn give her hand a reassuring squeeze. The soldiers lowered their weapons, and Captain Preston ushered them to the door.

“Thank you, Captain,” Lucy said before slipping out the door. She felt Flynn’s hand tighten in hers. They walked hand in hand through the dim halls, and they didn’t let go until they were far away from the fortress. She couldn’t help but realize how well their hands fit together.

It took almost an hour to find the tree they had hidden their modern clothing in. A similar scene transpired once they reached the field behind cottage, one with embarrassed fumblings and flushed faces. Flynn could barely stand her being so close to him after what she said...what she felt.

“Hurry up, it’s freezing,” Lucy hissed at Flynn’s stilled movements. He was losing count trying to keep track of exactly how many times he’d fumbled with Lucy’s corset. His fingers were frozen in the winter air, and every movement to unlace her corset caused a stabbing pain in his fingertips.

“Screw it,” he mumbled, releasing his knife from the ankle holster. Flynn lined the knife up with the corset strings, tearing through the thin laces.

“What the hell was that?” Lucy grasped the torn garment to her dress when she whirled to face him.

“You said it yourself, it’s freezing. It’s not like you’ll be needing it.” Flynn tossed her dress aside, bunching up his own clothes and launching it near the clothesline. “Hurry up.”

***

The mothership door hissed to a close behind her. They were silent as they sat down, buckling their seat belts.

“What happens now?” Lucy asked quietly. Flynn licked his lips, dreading this moment. What he wanted to do and what he needed to do we’re two very different things.

“I don’t want to be selfish with you. I can’t, not anymore.” He said it because it was true. He wanted her more than anything, but something deep inside was begging for him to let her go.

_ If you love someone, let them go. _

He’d never truly understood the phrase, always thought it was a load of bullshit. That all changed when he met Lucy Preston. A lot of things started to make sense once she entered his life.

“Selfish?” she repeated. Flynn sighed heavily, busying himself with typing in the coordinates.

“I want you here. I want you by my side, whether you like it or not,” his movements were quick and decisive. “But you don't belong here. I know you deserve more. You deserve better.”

Lucy was quiet, considering. Because suddenly, what he said didn’t sound half bad, and the fact that she thought so terrified her.

“You deserve better than me, Lucy.” Flynn had no idea why he was telling her this. He never let anyone see him this vulnerable, he vowed as such when Rittenhouse ruined his life. But they ruined her life too; maybe that was why it was far too easy to tell her everything he had feared to admit for so long.

Lucy had no idea what to say. Every bone in her body told her to tell him the truth; to tell him that he was so much better for her than he could ever imagine. For some reason, the words caught in her throat.

“Yeah,” was all she could manage, her throat growing tighter by the minute.

The world warped around them. With a pop, they landed.

“Where are we?” Lucy asked as she unbuckled her seat belts. Flynn crossed to her.

“Present day, the same church your people were going to raid. I returned us to 10 minutes after we left, so your people should be right outside,” Flynn said. Lucy nodded, still feeling a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. 

She had confessed so much to him. She had said so many things she barely admitted to herself, yet Flynn seemed...she had no idea how he seemed. Lucy always felt like he could read her like a book; whereas Flynn...he was a puzzle, a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

She heard shouts from outside the mothership. Flynn took a step forward, ducking down so his face was inches from hers. Lucy’s stomach flipped, watching as he approached her. He was close enough that his breaths tickled her cheeks.

“I guess I’m going to have to let you go now,” he whispered. The words were painful coming out of Flynn’s mouth.

“I guess so,” Lucy breathed, feeling his finger trace the edge of her jaw.

“Do one thing for me,” he said, pushing a lock of hair from her face. “When you’re back with your team, back to hating me and chasing me through time. When you’re with  _ him _ ,” his voice cracked at his last word. He shifted, moving closer until his lips just barely brushed against hers as he spoke. “I need you to remember the things you felt when you were with me.”

His stare was piercing. Lucy gulped, incapable of using her words. She nodded slowly.

_ What the hell has he done to me? _

“Good,” he said. When he pulled away, Lucy had to physically stop herself from chasing his lips. She coughed to mask the way she melted at his words, at his touch. He sifted behind the pilot seat before turning back to her. 

He shot her a mischievous smile.

“I apologize in advance,” he said, slamming the button to open the door. It hissed loudly behind her.

“Apologize for what?” She asked, ignoring the way his smile made her feel. How it made her feel something she hadn’t felt since Homeland Security turned up at her door, forcing her into a time machine and a war she wasn’t prepared to fight.

It made her feel free.

“This.” He grabbed her elbow, turning them both to face the nearly open door. She felt the barrel of a gun press against her temple. The door opened fully, and suddenly there were dozens of guns trained on them. The church was filled with officers, including Agent Christopher and Wyatt himself. They were all shouting, contributing to the chorus of demands coming from the men. Flynn sighed, clicking off the safety of his gun and pushing it harder against her head.

“Everyone, shut up!” Flynn shouted, immediately silencing the crowd. He shifted, dragging Lucy forward with him. “Take one more step, and I put a bullet in her brain.”


	14. All The Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shuffles into the room awkwardly* I am...so sorry, friends. Life just gets busy on ya, sometimes. This chapter was always meant to be the 'transition' chapter to, essentially, a part-two of sorts for this story and I let it get away from me. But we're back! and hopefully, better than ever!

“Let her go, Flynn,” Wyatt said, taking measured steps toward the mothership. Flynn yanked her back.

“Oh, I will.” Flynn loosened his grip on Lucy’s arm. She knew she should’ve been scared. Her sworn enemy was holding a pistol to her brain, threatening to kill her. But her sworn enemy also happened to be oddly attached to her, as she was to him, and she had to admit that the look on Wyatt’s face amused her ever so slightly. Lucy had half a mind to shake her head in frustration at the officer’s instance to keep the guns pointed at Flynn.

_ He’s bluffing, you idiots. _

“I’ll let her go, but I have my terms.” Flynn’s voice was commanding as it echoed throughout the church. Wyatt looked like he was about to speak when Agent Christopher stepped out of the crowd.

“What terms?” She was collected, calm and firm. 

She couldn’t see it, but Lucy could guarantee that Flynn was smirking.

“I need you to load the mothership calibration gear and landing equipment into the machine. I need a Duromax 12,000 watt generator, for Karl to be released back to me, and…” he trailed off for a moment. “And two double cheeseburgers from In-N-Out. With milkshakes.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Wyatt’s face was furious.

“Do you  _ honestly  _ think-”

“30 minutes,” Agent Christopher said. Wyatt whirled to face her.

“No. There’s no way in hell-”

“Wyatt, we have a hostage situation that can easily be resolved by trading a non-valuable prisoner, a generator, and a cheeseburger. If you can’t separate your emotions enough to realize that this is tactically a dream scenario, you don’t belong here.”

“Don’t forget the milkshakes,” Flynn chimed in. Wyatt glared at Flynn. “30 minutes.” 

Lucy never knew just how awkward it was being a hostage. After the mothership was all loaded, they had nothing to do but wait. Most of the officers left, leaving only four guarding the mothership and Lucy, including Wyatt. Flynn sat them down on the top of the roll away stairs, grip still tight on her elbow and gun pressed to her head.

“You okay?” Wyatt approached cautiously. Lucy nodded.

“You know, just another day at the office.”

Wyatt spit out a pained laugh. Flynn rolled his eyes next to her.

“You have five more minutes-”

“Done.” Agent Christopher entered the church, trailed by a team of men. She watched the giant generator as it was loaded into the mothership. Karl was dragged into the room wearing a pair of tan sweats, face twisted in anger. As always.

Flynn dragged Lucy down the stairs, meeting Denise and Wyatt in the center of the chapel. Karl was handcuffed at Wyatt’s side. Flynn raised his eyebrows, and Denise handed him the bag of burgers. He snatched it from her hands. The smell reminded Lucy of how hungry she was.

“Much appreciated.” He grinned. “Well, no point in dragging this out any longer, right Lucy?”

She scoffed, grabbing the bag from his hands. She sifted through it, taking out one of the burgers.  
“Shut it, Flynn. I know you’re enjoying this.” Lucy turned to face him for the first time. Flynn was smiling; eyes lighting up with pure amusement. After a moment of pause, he removed the barrel of the gun from her temple. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he whispered. He drew back, pushing her forward with a slight shove. Karl was released at the same time, glaring at Lucy as they passed one another. Wyatt reached out, pulling her in until she was sandwiched between Denise and Wyatt. Flynn patted Karl on the back, ushering him into the mothership. He climbed the stairs, pausing at the top.

“You forgot the Milkshakes,” Flynn said. His gaze passed over Denise and Wyatt before landing on her. He shot her a mischievous smile, as if he was sharing a secret just between the two of them. He winked before entering the machine and closing the door.

It was gone in seconds.

***

They were back at Mason Industries by sundown. Lucy was unloaded from the car by Wyatt and Denise, practically pulled from an empty parking lot into a side door of the building. She felt an odd sense of familiarity to be back in the warehouse, the slight smell of metal a weird comfort. Hand on her elbow, Wyatt walked them into a room.

“Lucy!” Rufus was hugging her before she could even register his presence. She hugged him back, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Rufus.” She hugged him back. He pulled away, and another pair of arms encircled her.

“Good to have you back,” Jiya whispered in her ear. Lucy nodded. 

“What am I, chopped liver?” a voice said from behind her. She turned around to a familiar face.

“Agent Murphy?”

His blonde locks only partially obscured his battered face, but he smiled nonetheless.

“Glad you’re okay,” he said, reaching his hand out and taking hers.

“You too,” she replied. Lucy didn’t miss the way Wyatt eyed their exchange. She brushed it off, noticing three doctors enter the room. One was a woman her mother’s age, with deep blue eyes and a soft smile. She approached Agent Christopher.

“Where is she?” the doctor asked. Denise gestured to Lucy, the woman turning to approach her.

“Lucy Preston?” she asked. Lucy nodded, noting how all the heads in the room were looking at her. “If you’re ready, we’d like to begin.”

Confused, Lucy looked to Denise.

“You’ll have a full medical examination-”

“I’m tired,” was all Lucy could think to say. For some reason, the thought of their hands on her, probing her, made her shudder.

“You can rest once they’ve examined you and we’ve debriefed what happened,” Denise responded. The two other doctors, one man and one woman, reached to take her arm. She shrunk away from them almost against her will.

“Lucy,” Wyatt said quietly, looking at her with something close to pity.

“Honestly, I’m okay. I don’t need this.” Lucy backed away. Wyatt and Denise shared a look.

“Lucy, you know that isn’t true,” Wyatt said in a low tone, as if he were speaking to a scared animal.

“If you forgot, Lucy, I have all the power here. You can either submit to medical testing willingly or we can strap you down to the table.” As always, Denise was less gentle about it. Jiya and Rufus shared a worried glance.

“Geez,” Rufus murmured. 

“I just want what's best for you.” Denise took her hand. Lucy let hers hang limp, nodding slowly.

“I swear we wont do anything without your consent,” the doctor added. “We are professionals, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Lucy breathed deeply.

“Can we have a minute?” Wyatt asked the room. Denise hesitated before nodding, leading the others out the door. Wyatt turned to face her, and Lucy shrunk back sheepishly under his stare. Suddenly she was speechless.

“What did he do to you?” he whispered, taking a step towards her. Lucy shook her head.

“Nothing, Wyatt. I’m just…” she sighed, brushing the hair out of her face. “I’m just tired.”

Wyatt looked at her in a way that implied he didn’t believe a word she said.

“You’re really not going to talk about what happened between the two of you?” Wyatt’s face was grim, blue eyes boring into hers. “I won’t let you pretend that everything is fine. I’ve seen this in soldiers hundreds of times-”

“I’m not a soldier, Wyatt!” Her voice echoed in the empty warehouse, much louder than she had intended. Lucy took a deep breath. “It was...yes, it was scary and confusing, but there’s so much more to it than I can explain.”

“Try me.” Wyatt took a step forward, prompting her to take two steps back.

“No, Wyatt. I need time. It was days alone with Flynn and I guess I’m still processing the...things that happened.”  _ Things _ . God, what a loaded word.  _ Things _ as in she was captured by a British officer that happened to be her great great great great grandfather.  _ Things _ as in she had discovered that the murderous cult she had been trying to dismantle was founded by her ancestors.  _ Things _ as in she had kissed Garcia Flynn more than once and she had  _ absolutely no idea how to cope with that. _

“I discovered things about myself. Things I’m just not ready to talk about yet.” She settled on saying. Lucy had a feeling that if she had elaborated any more on that, Wyatt would never speak to her again.

“But you can talk to me, Lucy.”

She almost rolled her eyes at his words. 

“Why can’t you understand that I just need time!” Her voice rang out once again, louder this time, fueled by frustration. Wyatt took a step back, eyes rounding in surprise.

“Lucy,” Denise said from the door. Lucy tore her stare from Wyatt reluctantly, watching Denise gesture to the room. “We’re ready for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I didn't lose any interest in the time I was gone. This is a Lucy and Wyatt chapter mostly, but dont worry, its all to solidify the future Garcy. Comment your feelings and frustrations, let it out. See you soon, I promise.


	15. Ulterior Motive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter to make up for my hiatus! Thank you to everyone who continues to comment/support this story.

It had been the most relaxing two weeks of her life. 

According to Denise, it had been radio silence from Flynn ever since he let her go, releasing her with a sick smile and crude promise.

_ I’ll be seeing you. _

Quite frankly, she was bored. Her recent life had left her incapable of letting her guard down, of going anywhere in fear of a sudden jump. But all was calm, according to Christopher, and Lucy hated it. 

Everyone always goes on about the calm before the storm, but nobody ever talks about the calm after the storm. Tense, heavy, and a little bit haunting. But Flynn wasn’t a storm, he was a hurricane.

“Earth to Lucy.” The voice snapped her back into reality. Wyatt and Rufus stared at her before sharing a worried glance, pushing the plate of fries in her direction.

“Sorry, just...thinking,” she said, taking a sip from her milkshake. It was noon on a Tuesday, and they had nothing better to do than sit in a diner and watch minor league baseball on the blurry monitors.

“About?” Wyatt asked, raising an eyebrow. Ever since she came back, Wyatt picked apart every little thing she said and did. It was exhausting.

“Nothing,” she lied. It wasn’t convincing, but it usually stopped their nagging. A player hit a home run in the background, causing Rufus to erupt in cheers. Wyatt looked at him, shaking his head.

“You’re lying,” Wyatt pressed, folding his hands together on the table. Normally, Lucy would shrug him off, dismiss his worry and change the subject. But, like she said, she was bored.

“Where is he?” 

No need to clarify who  _ he _ was. Wyatt sighed, leaning back.

“Maybe he’s dead,” Rufus murmured. Wyatt scoffed.

“Wishful thinking.”

“I’m serious, guys. Why has it been so long?” Lucy rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, unable to remember the last time she had a full night's rest.

“Why are you so worried about it? Do you know something we don’t?”

“Of course not, Wyatt,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just strange.”

Flynn was always up to something. He was relentless in his vengeance, in his determination for bringing Rittenhouse down. So where the hell was he?

Rufus took a handful of fries, stuffing them in his mouth.

“I like it.” His mouth was full as he spoke. “We’re getting paid for sitting around and doing nothing. Enjoy it, Luce.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head.

_ I’ll be seeing you.  _

He wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. 

***

Her house was dark when she got home that night. Wyatt and Rufus decided to go drinking by mid-afternoon, an event that Lucy quickly talked her way out of. She ended up at the public library instead, sitting in the far corner with a fictional book for a change. Her life was changing, after all, might as well have some fun. So she sat there and read for four hours before driving home.

“Mom?” she called to the empty house. No response. She flipped on the lights, seeing a small white note on the counter.

_ Out at trivia night. Be home after midnight. Don’t wait up - love you! _

_ -Mom _

Lucy sighed, tossing the note aside and opening the fridge. She grabbed her book and a beer, sitting down on the stool. She struggled to open the twist-off cap once, twice, three times before sighing in defeat, kicking the cabinet beneath her.

“Need a hand?”

She stood, whirling around to the living room where Flynn sat, his feet up on the coffee table. She breathed out her shock, nerves...excitement.

“Well,” Lucy quirked her eyebrow. “You certainly made yourself at home.”

Flynn smirked, sipping his own beer.

“You have a lovely house. Lots of books, lots of journals; you’re very predictable, Lucy.”

She couldn’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment. His head was scanning the room, the floor, even the ceiling. While his gaze was turned away, Lucy reached for her phone, blindly typing in the 2 on her speed dial. It started to ring softly. Flynn narrowed his eyes at the bookshelf as Lucy heard a soft ‘hello?’. Lucy exhaled in relief.

“I can’t say the same.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket, grabbing the beer and approaching him. “What are you doing here, Flynn?”

He looked back at her, a smile still on his face. He held his hand out, gesturing for Lucy to give him her beer. He opened it with ease, handing it back to her, the top smoking slightly.

“You drugging me again?” She asked, holding the glass to her lips. 

Flynn laughed. Her heart sped up. 

“I missed that,” he said, rising to his feet. In the two weeks he was away, she had almost forgotten how tall he was. Almost. 

“Missed what?”

“You,” he said simply. “Karl isn’t the best company, as you know.”

She felt a shiver down her spine just remembering the way Karl looked at her.

“Turn yourself in and you’ll have all the company you want.” It was a weak jab and they both knew it. She made it too obvious that her words were merely a tool to convince herself that her mission was what she truly wanted. Flynn behind bars, far away from the world, from Mason Industries...from her. 

“In prison?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Probably.”

He scoffed again, taking a step closer. When she didn’t back away, something flashed in Flynn’s eyes. A muscle twitched in his slight smile, something that told Lucy that he was just as bored without her as she was without him.

“Is that really why you’re here?” She forced herself to keep talking.“Because you missed me?”

Flynn cocked his head.

“Does there have to be a reason?”

Lucy scoffed, unable to hide the soft tremor in her voice.

“I’ve never known Garcia Flynn to do anything without an ulterior motive,” she said. Flynn nodded, placing his beer on the coffee table. She could just barely hear the commotion on the other side of the phone coming from her pocket, the line still open. Wyatt was probably close by now, or at least someone must be.

“You’re right, Lucy. As always.” He rounded the chair, inching closer. His face turned darker, threatening. “Maybe you’re my ulterior motive.”

Lucy fought the instinct to step back, held back by what she knew to be true.

“I’m not afraid of you, Flynn. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Knowing I won’t hurt you and not being afraid of me are two very different things.” He was closer now. Close enough to reach out and touch her. “I think you  _ are _ afraid of me. I think you're afraid of me for a reason you don’t want to admit.”

“Shut up, Flynn.”

He smiled. He smiled that wicked, knowing smile, and she knew she was done for. He slowed to a stop right in front of her, his arm winding around her back. He grabbed the phone from her back pocket, sliding it into his hand. When he spoke, his mouth was inches from her face.

“Just making sure you didn’t forget about me,” he said. “All of you.” He spoke into the phone. “Especially you, Wyatt.”

He hung up the phone, placing it on the counter.

“See you soon.” Flynn winked, turning away from her and walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's Flynn up to?? 
> 
> I considered holding off on posting until I had a full three chapters written to get ahead of the game but...I feel bad so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As always comment your thought, feelings, fears, hopes, dreams, everything!


	16. For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some time to really get the direction of my story in a solid place, so I'm hoping everyone is enjoying it so far! Get ready for some drama, some angst, some love, and a lot of hate. But hey, that's what you get with enemies to lovers.
> 
> [There is some French in this chapter. Any translation that you need to know is in the italics that follow. I tried to be historically accurate with the language they spoke and if you're still confused, full translations are in the end notes]

Five minutes felt like a lifetime. 

The sound of a fist pounding on her door drew her out of her shock. Lucy walked slowly to the front door, still caught between a state of confusion and excitement. She flung it open, staring at an exhausted Rufus and a disturbed Wyatt. Honestly, Lucy was surprised he didn't just kick the door down and barge in.

“Is he-”

“Gone.” Lucy cut Wyatt off, turning away from the door to return to the kitchen. She heard Rufus shut the door behind him, trailing her to the main room. Lucy took a sip of her beer, opening the fridge to take out two more.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine, Wyatt.” Lucy slid the beer to Wyatt, who caught it with exhausted, yet practiced, reflexes. He gave her a look.

“You can’t keep saying you’re fine. We know you’re lying,” Wyatt said. She rolled her eyes.

Lucy was getting so tired of everyone assuming her mental state. Assuming that she was some weak, battered woman to be saved. She couldn’t tell Wyatt that ever since Flynn, she had been itching for another jump; itching to feel that spike of adrenaline that came with working her way out of tight situations with the heroes and villains she’d studied as a child. She couldn’t tell Wyatt that these past two weeks have been the worst of her life. That she had realized something, something important the moment Garcia Flynn had flashed her that sinister smile from the coffee table. 

She hadn’t been waiting for action or purpose, or whatever mission Mason industries was using her for. She had been waiting for Flynn.

“Wyatt, please. I called you because I thought I was in trouble. But I wasn’t. Flynn left, and everything is…” she was really about to say that everything was fine.

Everything _ is _ fine. It is. If she repeated that enough, maybe it’ll sink in. That’s how this stuff works, right?

“Look, he was bound to come back at some point,” Lucy said, shrugging.

“In your house? On your couch?” Wyatt shook his head. Rufus scoffed.

“It’s one hell of an entrance.”

“It’s a message,” Wyatt said. His eyes searched Lucy’s living room for answers. The only thing leftover from Flynn’s presence was the muddy shoe prints left on the cream colored carpet.

“A message?” Lucy raised her eyebrow. Wyatt nodded.

“That he can get to us-to you-anywhere, past or present.”

“I think that’s a bit dramatic-”

“Is it?” He cut her off, slamming his beer down on the table and turning to her. “I heard the things he said to you, Lucy. That he missed you, that he wanted you to remember him. Don’t you see?”

She paled. For a moment, horror filled her veins. Missing her, remembering her, it was almost too obvious what Flynn had been implying.

_ Remember the things you felt when you were with me _ , he’d said to her.

“He knows he can get to you, Lucy, that he can...take you. He’s taunting us,” Wyatt said.

Lucy almost sighed in relief. She shook her head clear, making her way around the kitchen island.

“Taunting  _ you _ , you mean,” Lucy huffed. “You think he did all of this to expose me as a weakness?  _ Your _ weakness?” Lucy slowed next to Rufus. Wyatt took a moment to think before saying,

“Maybe.”

She scoffed. A weakness. Of course.

“That’s all I’ll ever be to you, isn’t it? Because I can’t throw a punch or snap a man’s neck in five different ways, that Flynn will only ever come after me to mess with you?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure as hell sounded like it.” Lucy inched forward. It aggravated her to no end, the way Wyatt underestimated her. The thing she hated most about it was that sometimes she had started to believe him; that a brain wasn’t enough to fight Rittenhouse.

“What do you think, Lucy?”

She was shocked to hear Rufus’ voice behind her, halting her mid-step.

“You know him best. Why do you think he came tonight?” Rufus raised an eyebrow. She saw the grimace grow on Wyatt’s face at Rufus’ words, but he wasn’t wrong. Lucy had spent the most time with him; she’d had days to learn his motivations, his fears, his...desires.

Lucy swallowed, hesitating. 

“He’s bored.”

Wyatt snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Bored?” 

When Lucy didn’t respond, the smug look was wiped from his face. “What do you mean?”

Flynn missed her. Like her, he craved the challenge she was to him, the concoction of emotions she stirred up in him. Hate, want, maybe a little bit of need.

Before she had time to explain herself, to explain anything, Wyatt’s phone rang. All three of them sat up straight.

“It's Christopher.”

It was probably her just checking up on Lucy, she assured herself. She hadn’t called them in ages, and whenever she did it was just more of nothing. It would be too much of a coincidence if Flynn jumped now, if he finally-

“The mothership jumped,” Wyatt said, eyes flying up to Lucy’s face.

_ Finally. _

_ *** _

She chose a burgundy dress. 

Strapping into the mothership gave Lucy the burst of excitement she had missed, facing Wyatt as she tightened the straps. He looked as anxious as she felt.

“What’s this town called again?” Wyatt’s voice was almost soft beneath the rumbling of the lifeboat.

“Right now, Skikda. It's an Algerian port on the Mediterranean. Where we’re going, in 1955, it’s called Philippeville.”

“Back when Algeria was a French colony, it was named after King Louis Phillippe,” Rufus said from the pilot’s seat. Both Lucy and Wyatt looked at him with confusion. “What? I remember history.”

The engines whirled to life. Lucy sucked in a deep breath before feeling the tell-tale popping sensation. Her stomach flipped as they landed, jerking hard into the ground. In minutes they were unbuckled and out of the lifeboat, dropping down into the sandy dirt below.

“Of course Flynn led us to a desert. In Africa. In the middle of the summer.” Rufus rolled his eyes, already wiping the bead of sweat from his forehead. “God, I hate sand.”

They walked for an hour before finding the mid-sized town. The sun was unforgiving, wind lifting the sand in swirls around them. Stone buildings lined the center market, multicolored tents housing vendors as they sold mixtures of fruits, spices, and grains. 

“So, what happened here on August 19, 1955?” Wyatt caught up to Lucy. She took a deep breath, setting her eyes on a fruit stand. Her dress flowed between her legs, a white scarf covering her hair and neck.

“Nothing. Not yet, anyway,” she whispered. Lucy approached the stand with a smile. “Combien pour le fruit?”

The vendor smiled, holding up 10 fingers. Lucy fished out a few Algerian Francs she had found on the road and handed them over. Lucy smiled, mumbling “Merci” before turning back to Rufus and Wyatt.

“Tomorrow is the day of the Philippeville Massacre.” Lucy gestured to a pale soldier scanning the market near a wooden door. He had brown hair, a skinny face, and a look to him that was...oddly familiar. “Tensions are high between the Algerian rebels and the French government. The Algerian war started a couple years ago, when the rebels, mainly the FLN-”

“The FLN?” Wyatt asked, far too loudly. Lucy shushed him harshly.

“Front Liberation Nationale. The Algerian rebel group fighting against the French occupation.” She peeked at the soldier once again.  _ Why was he familiar? _ As if he felt her stare, his eyes flew to hers. A chill ran down her spine. “And I wouldn’t say that too loud around here.”

“So the Algerian rebels attack their own people?” Rufus whispered, eyes trailing yet another French soldier. “Why?”

“Philippeville is small but it's still a city, which is why the rebels siege it. It's a foothold they can gain, smaller than Algiers but bigger than the surrounding villages,” Lucy explained. They slowed once they rounded the corner to a less crowded street, resting in a doorway to what looked like a tea shop.

“That soldier back there…” she trailed off, searching her memories for a photograph of him in a history book. “Why do I know that soldier back there?”

“What does that have to do with the massacre?” Wyatt asked. Lucy didn’t register his words, mind far away, deep in the contents of her memory.

“Hey.” Wyatt grasped her shoulder, pulling her into reality. “The massacre?”

Lucy nodded,

“The FLN had...violent tactics. Tomorrow, the rebels will target the Pieds-Noirs: the European colonists who live in the city. In all, 37 European civilians are killed, including 10 children. 13 more are left for dead.”

“That's...bad,” Rufus said.

“Yeah, well, thousands more ethnic Algerians have been killed throughout the French colonial rule. It’s a revolution, it’ll get ugly.” Lucy swallowed the dryness in her throat. “The real question is, what the hell is Flynn doing here?”

The door behind them swung open. Dirt stained hands attacked their clothes, tugging all three of them inside. From the corner of her eye, Lucy watched as Wyatt tried to fight them off. He was outnumbered, they all were. The room was dark and the men around them were shadowed.

“Qui êtes vous?” A low voice asked. Wyatt was restrained by two men. Rufus was being held to the ground by a large shadow while a tight grip held her own upper arms. Nobody spoke.

“Je te suggère de parler,” the man hissed, stepping into the light. “Avant de devoir te faire.” His hair was dark and slightly gray, a man Lucy just barely recognized. She knew his face, she knew she knew it. His name was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. His French was heavily accented, but Lucy got the gist. _ Talk, before I have to make you. _

Lucy held her chin up.

“Nous ne sommes pas votre ennemi,” she said in an angry whisper. She forced her voice to be steady and still.  _ We’re not your enemy; we’re not who you’re trying to kill. _

The man looked unconvinced. He was older; far older than most revolutionaries she’d encountered from history. He was unique, memorable.  _ C’mon, Lucy, you know this. _

He raked his eyes over her.

“Lucy…” Wyatt warned, breathless. She held her hand up to him. His name, goddamn it what was his name? Isman? Yousef?

“Je ne te crois pas,” the man said, taking a step forward. _ I don’t believe you. _

“I have information.” She blurted. The man halted, quirking his eyebrow. She took a leap of faith. “For Zighoud Youcef.” 

His eyes grew round.

_ Got him. _

“L’information?”

“General Ausseresses has gotten word of the attack you’re planning tomorrow. He is sending reinforcements.” She stood up straighter. “You’ve been caught, Youcef.”

The men around them shared a worried glance. Youcef leaned back, his eyes grazing over her suspiciously. He stroked the hair on his chin with a dirty finger, sighing ever so slightly.

“How?” He turned to the man behind him, speaking in a hushed tone. “Avons-Nous un espion?”

“There’s no spy,” she answered his question loud enough for the room to hear. “You’re making a lot of noise, even the villagers are noticing. It wasn’t hard for General Ausseresses to track down the baker you’re buying all of your flour from.” The hold on her upper arm grew tighter, she hissed. “It also doesn’t take a genius to track the uptick in sales to  _ your _ men, hiding in the mountains.”

She flicked her eyes to Wyatt and Rufus, who observed the men in their silent panic. Wyatt’s gaze found hers, giving her a small smile.

“You’re saying we should call off the attack?” the henchman said.

“If you know what’s best for you-” Lucy was cut off by the door slamming closed.

“I wouldn’t trust her if I were you,” a low voice emerged from the shadows. “She’s slippery.”

Flynn stepped into the light, flashing Lucy a bright smile as he approached her. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Wyatt. Rufus.” He nodded at each man respectively. “I see you’ve met my friends.” He stopped in front of Lucy, close enough for her to see the grains of sand that dotted his face.

“Yeah, well I didn’t really have a choice, seeing as they pulled us in here and restrained us,” she snapped, pulled back by the man holding her still.

“They’re the FLN. They don’t do subtle.”

“Neither do you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. Flynn was silent for a moment, looking down into her eyes as she struggled to look up into his. Her heartbeat picked up speed, her stomach swirling. Flynn’s breaths were quick and labored, his shoulders sagging slightly. Lucy narrowed her eyes.

“I’m familiar with these people,” Flynn called over his shoulder. “They are agents for the French government.” He looked back at her. Lucy’s eyes grew wide with panic. “Trying to foil our plans for freedom. For liberation.”

“No-”

Hands tightened around her, shoving her against the wall. She yelped as her head hit the stone, foggy mind just barely registering the shouts that broke out in the small room.

“Les retenir!”

“Enfermez-les!”

She sagged against the cool feeling of the stone at her back, the hands that encircled her arms just a vague memory. Flynn’s face swam in and out of focus between the shadows before her. She couldn’t help the betrayal that forced its way into her mind.  _ I thought you were trying to be better. I thought you would change.  _

_ For me. _

“Why are you doing this?” she breathed. A hand brushed against her eyebrow, pulling away damp with blood.

“Trust me,” Flynn whispered, face inches from hers. “I’m doing this for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Combien pour le fruit? - How much for the fruit?  
> Qui etes vois? - who are you?  
> Je te suggère de parler Avant de devoir te faire. - I suggest you talk before we have to make you  
> Nous ne sommes pas votre ennemi - we're not your enemy  
> Je ne te crois pas - I don't believe you  
> Avons-Nous un espion? - Do we have a spy?  
> Les retenir! - restrain them  
> Enfermez-les! - lock them up
> 
> A few things:  
> Yes, I know that the Algerian rebels would potentially be speaking Arabic or a form of Berber Arabic/French, however, I only speak french and didn't want to write in a language I didn't know. So they're speaking French. Also, I've been DYING to get some personal history out there, and as a North African Jew, I had to put some historical events in here that a lot of Europeans and Americans don't know about.  
> Is Flynn bad again? Was he ever good? What's his plan? What does it have to do with Lucy?


	17. Little Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knows, maybe I can keep posting once a week? One can hope. Anyway, I sensed some disinterest for the story so I decided to speed it up, to post more and move the plot faster. Lmk how you feel!

She hadn’t quite passed out, though she wished she had. The pain in Lucy’s head was unbearable.

“Is it a concussion?” Rufus’ voice was muffled, as was the grunt that followed.

“Most likely. Her head is bleeding in three different places. I’m no doctor but I know that’s not a good thing,” Wyatt replied. Lucy groaned, feeling the cold, hard ground against the back of her head and the skin on her back.

“Lucy?” Wyatt said, his hands grasping the sides of her head. “Lucy, can you hear me?” 

She couldn’t get the reply past her lips, not without a considerable amount of effort. Instead, she forced her eyes open. All around her was cement. Cement walls, floors, and ceiling. Opening her eyes more, she found that surrounding them were iron bars on three sides. A cage.

She didn’t have the energy to spare for a panic attack. And Flynn wasn’t here to calm her this time.

“Sleep well?”

Or maybe he was.

“Get a life, Flynn,” Wyatt hissed, still gripping Lucy’s head in his hand. It was warm compared to the cement beneath her. Flynn walked past the threshold of the room, approaching the other side of the steel bars.

“Oh I will, once I’ve saved yours.” Flynn unlocked the cell with a rusty key, stepping through the open door.

“Saved?” Lucy groaned, lifting herself up on her elbows. Wyatt kept a supportive hand under her arm. Flynn’s eyes shifted to her.

“Rittenhouse is here. In a big way.” He couldn’t look at her for long, his eyes shifting with uncertainty before landing on Wyatt. “Securing you all in here is the only way to keep you away from them.”

“Bullshit.”

“How do you know that?” Wyatt and Lucy said at the same time.

“I would have preferred to kill Rittenhouse as well but, bird in hand and all.” Flynn sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Can’t have you messing up my plans.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Rufus asked, standing up to lean against the bars.

“Nothing you need to worry about. You’ll remain here, locked up.” Flynn looked at Lucy, “Safe, until it passes.”

He held her gaze. Her vision was still swimming, but becoming clearer by the second. A figure entered the room behind Flynn. Lucy dropped her stare, speaking softly,

“And what are you going to do?”

“What I always do.” Flynn smiled, scoffing. “Whatever the hell I want.”

Flynn turned to leave. The figure was closer now, close enough that when Flynn faced it, he was pushed inside the cell, stumbling to his knees. A pale hand reached into the cell, pulling the door closed behind Flynn and sealing their fate with the click of the lock.

Flynn scrambled to his feet, launching himself at the bars of the cage. Locked inside.

“What the hell?” he hissed. The figure stepped into the light, grinning from outside of their prison. Lucy sucked in a sharp breath.  _ The soldier. _

“What the hell is going on?” Wyatt rose to his feet, looking between the two men. The figure on the other side of the bars wore a dirty french military uniform, complete with a rusted gun slung over his shoulder. The same soldier from the market. Lucy shook her head clear, certain she was imagining things.

“It’s you,” Lucy breathed, voice lost beneath the chaos.

“God, I thought you'd never stop talking,” the man sighed, winking at Flynn. 

“I know you.” Lucy tried to speak louder this time, but knew she failed.

“I’d choose your allies more carefully next time,” the man said to Flynn, whose hands tightened on the metal bars. “They sold you out for a very cheap price.”

The man’s eyes grazed lazily past Wyatt before landing on Lucy. He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Have you placed me yet?” he asked. Lucy couldn’t find her voice, shaking her head instead. He tsked, and real disappointment seemed to flash in his eyes.

“I guess I can’t be too surprised. I was so young back then, naive...hopeful. My life changed the day you knocked on my door.”

_ What door? _ All eyes were on her now. Even Flynn snuck a glance at her where she lay on the floor, still too weak to go any further. She filed through her memories, trying so hard to grasp the memory of his face.  _ Knocked on his door- _

_ Oh my god _

Her eyes rounded in shock.

“There she is.” He smiled, the same smile he had given her after answering the door to her father's house. Her biological father’s house. Which made him her…“Not the place I expected to have a family reunion but don’t worry, we won't be here for long.”

“You’re…” she trailed off.  _ Not possible. _

“Who is this guy?” Rufus finally asked. The man straightened, obviously waiting for the opportunity. The big reveal.

“I’m her brother.” He flashed a sinister smile as his words registered. “Half-brother, that is.”

He looked between the men, standing still in shock. “I’m sorry, it was rude of me not to introduce myself. My names Ian Cahill. As in, the son of Benjamin Cahill. Which makes me-”

“Baby Cahill, and Lucy’s brother,” Rufus finished for him. “Yeah, I get it.”

That day Lucy had met him couldn’t have been more than a few weeks ago in their time, he had been so young...so innocent.

“But you were…”

“A teenager? Yes, I was. That's the beauty of time machines,” Ian said. “I grew up, learned a few things. I’m actually older than you now, Lucy, so I guess that makes me your older brother now.” He chuckled, and it was anything but lighthearted. “You see, in Lucy’s eyes, she met me a couple weeks ago. For me, it's been over two decades.”

“So you’re…”

“From the future, yes, please try to keep up.” Ian slammed on the bars with a fist. “Your present is my past. My present is your future.”

For a moment, all was silent. Lucy’s mind was still picking up the pieces of meeting her younger...now older brother in an Algerian tea shop in 1955. And, given the equally puzzled looks from Wyatt, Rufus, and Flynn, they were thinking the same.

“So…” Rufus finally spoke up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ian stepped back, pocketing the key to their cell. “Revenge.”

***

“You’re bleeding.” Flynn reached for Lucy’s head, his hand quickly batted away by Wyatt. Her back was resting against the bars, cupping the wound on the side of her head. Her ears were still ringing, from her brother and the concussion. She couldn’t tell which one hurt her more.

“Yeah, no shit, Flynn,” Wyatt said, adjusting himself protectively over Lucy’s body.

“Oh, boy scout thinks he knows first aid?” Flynn scoffed. “She needs a doctor, not a pouty, arrogant soldier.”

Wyatt was on his feet in seconds, stepping towards Flynn.

“I swear to god-”

“Guys, stop.” Lucy pushed herself up, stumbling to find balance.

“No, I'm not gonna stop,” Wyatt hissed, whirling on Lucy. She flinched, and he eased up, shaking his head clear before turning back to Flynn. “You have ruined everything for us since the beginning, and the one time you get screwed over, you manage to get us screwed over with you.”

“And how exactly is that my fault?” Flynn cocked his head, leaning carelessly on the cell bars.

“Everything is your fault, Flynn! Everything!” Wyatt pointed an accusatory finger. “You experienced a shred of grief and decided to take down the entire goddamn country with you.”

“At least I did something with my grief, instead of sitting there and groveling, wishing for something that I could never have.” Flynn slammed the bars, turning his back to the three of them. “Second chances don't just happen upon people like us.”

Wyatt scoffed. “You call this a second chance?”

Lucy was standing confidently now, just barely relying on her tight grip of the steel. Wyatt and Flynn were radiating rage, their words rapid fire. Lethal.

“I saw a way to change my future and I took it.” Flynn looked over his shoulder, glaring at Wyatt. “If anything, you should be grateful to me that you’re along for the ride.”

Wyatt barked out an exaggerated laugh, pacing the length of the cell. His hair was ruffled, white shirt partially untucked, covered in dirt. Like all of them.

“That’s not it.”

“It's not?” Flynn’s voice was high, mocking him.

“No. You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Flynn grumbled, pushing off the bars. He turned around, facing Wyatt with open arms. “But I have a feeling you’re about to tell me anyway.”

“I think you just really suck at being a villain.”

“At least I don't suck at being a hero.” Flynn glanced at Lucy before advancing on Wyatt, who refused to back down. “I kill people. I do bad things. At least I own up to it. You’re an asshole parading as a saint.”

Wyatt tried to conceal the flinch that reverberated through his body, but failed. His eye twitched trying to stay open, locked on Flynn. He continued, noticing the chink in Wyatt’s armor.

“What good have you even done for your country? You can’t ask your Delta Force team, they’re all dead.”

“Flynn-” Rufus warned.

“And your loved ones?” Flynn scoffed. “Can’t keep track of those either.”

“Stop it!” Lucy called. Flynn ignored her, advancing further. At his sides, Wyatt’s fists clenched tight.

“You can’t even keep your own girl from getting stolen away.”

With a growl, Wyatt pounced. Grasping Flynn’s neck in his hands, he threw the taller man into the steel bars. Flynn seemed unbothered, fist flying to punch him in the eye. Wyatt let go, just before advancing again at Flynn’s stomach. Flynn caught him around the waist, throwing Wyatt to the ground. Flynn placed his boot on Wyatt’s neck, pressing down hard enough to constrict his breathing.

Wyatt kicked his knee away, leaping to his feet and wrapping his bicep around Flynn’s neck from behind. Propping himself against the bars, Wyatt secured his hold.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Wyatt hissed. Fed up, Lucy hurled herself at the men, yanking Wyatt’s arm from Flynn’s neck.

“No, you’re not,” she said. Flynn stumbled away, massaging the skin of his neck. A smile cracked from Flynn’s bloodied lips.

“Give me one reason not to!” Wyatt was breathless, blind with rage. “You should hate him, Lucy! He kidnapped you, for Christ’s sake.” He ran his hand through his hair, a drop of blood trailing down the side of his head. His eyes flicked to Flynn before turning back on her. “And now you’re defending him? You won't even tell us what he did to you all that time-”

“Oh, well,” Flynn scoffed, pushing the hair out of his eyes nonchalantly. “Lucy’s not the type to kiss and tell.”

Lucy’s heart dropped into her stomach, heat blazing at the base of her neck. She whirled on Flynn, putting every ounce of fury into her stare.

“Excuse me?” Wyatt’s voice was weak. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

“Kiss and what?” Rufus asked, taking a step towards them.

Flynn leaned smugly against the bars, shrugging his shoulders at her. Lucy glared. And glared. Hoping, for once, that looks could kill. Her stomach churned with guilt, the mistakes she’s made flashing through her mind. But they weren’t mistakes, were they? She hadn’t been tricked or forced when she kissed him, when she opened up to him. She had been seeking comfort. And Flynn gave it to her.

That didn’t make this any easier. 

“He’s lying,” Lucy finally said.

“Is he now?” Flynn teased, mouth curving into a smile. When she finally tore her eyes from Flynn, Wyatt was staring at her through narrowed eyes. Silently.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Wyatt. Don’t listen to him-”

“Oh but I have so much to say.” Flynn rubbed his hands together, fully aware of the tension he created. With a mischievous grin, he continued. “Hey Lucy, maybe you can sweet talk your way out of this cage like you did the last one.”

“Flynn, shut up,” Lucy hissed, caught between glaring at Flynn and glancing at Wyatt. Still silent, still stoic. His eyes portrayed no emotion.

“Though I wasn’t complaining. I could’ve stayed in there with you another night, even. The first one was just...so enlightening.” Flynn sneered. Wyatt’s gaze finally moved, shooting right past her and meeting Flynn’s eyes. The tension somehow grew thicker. Flynn turned to Lucy. “You do seem to be handling your claustrophobia much better this time around, Lucy. Or did Wyatt already comfort you? Calm you down?” His eyes roamed lazily between them. “Lull you to sleep in the comfort of his arms?”

Flynn placed a mocking hand over his heart.

“And I thought I was special,” he said. Flynn continued to speak, but Lucy couldn’t hear him over her rage. She crossed the cell in three strides, taking a deep breath before her fist connected with Flynn’s cheek.

He stumbled back, and boy, did it feel good. 

“Nice form,” Wyatt said. Lucy winced, flexing her hand, fairly certain she fractured a bone in her hand.

_ Worth it. _

“Thanks.” Lucy cocked her head as Flynn took his hand away from his nose, covered in blood. He stared at her, and the look on his face made it seem like he was...impressed? Satisfied? 

“Feel better?” Flynn asked, wiping his bloodied hand off on his pants. 

“A bit.” Lucy smiled innocently. Flynn scoffed.

“I thought you got all of your anger out when you stabbed me.”

“Not even close,” Lucy said, narrowing her eyes.

“You two done?” Nobody had heard Ian enter the room. He strode towards their cell, a gun hanging from his hand. “You’ll have plenty of time to beat each other up where we’re going.”

The four of them exchanged looks.

“And where is that exactly?” Wyatt asked, stepping closer to the cell door. Four men filed into the room behind Ian, dressed in modern tactical gear and holding rifles. Modern rifles.

Ian laughed.

“Don’t worry, Wyatt. You’ll find out soon enough.” His look was sinister. He paced the bars, slowing to a stop near Lucy. “I’m so excited to get to know you, little sister. To finally share all the family secrets.”

Lucy furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Family secrets?” She asked. Ian nodded, inclining his head. She hesitated, thinking back to Boston, flipping through her memories of her grandfather, of her journal... “You mean Rittenhouse.”

His smile was all the confirmation she needed.

“Rittenhouse?” Wyatt and Rufus repeated in unison. Ian sighed.

“Though I am really enjoying this chat, I’m afraid we have to get going.”

“We are not going anywhere with you.” Wyatt grabbed Lucy’s arm, pulling her back toward him. Rufus stepped closer to them, squaring his shoulders for a fight.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” At his words, the men behind Ian raised their weapons, aiming at the four of them. “Take them”

Quiet shots rang out. Lucy braced for a flash of blinding pain, of a bullet burrowing into muscle. But there was no gunshot, no blinding pain. It was a soft pinch, and when she looked down to investigate, she found a dart had sunk into her neck. The dizziness came immediately, and the world went dark before she could think anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember if Lucy's half brother had a name or not, so I just made one up. I'm excited for whats coming up, but in the meantime, enjoy some asshole flynn and forced teamwork. Enjoy! (Also please drop a comment if you're still with me! love to hear what you guys have to say)


	18. Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, I'm a sucker for cheesy overused tropes :)

The last time Flynn’s body felt this numb, he was eight whiskeys deep in a bar in Brazil.

His limbs were bricks, resisting any attempt at movement. His vision was slowly coming back, the blurred lines of his surroundings slowly taking shape. From what he could see, it wasn’t good. 

It was another cell, that much was clear. Metal bars ran floor to ceiling, and Flynn had to fight to resist his urge to scream in frustration. He didn’t like cages. He hated them, in fact, with a burning passion. 

He reached his arm out blindly, feeling against the cement floor. It was freezing, coated in dust and dirt. His hand grazed over a round object. Flynn looked up. 

It was a cot. No bigger than a twin, rusted pipes securing a green elastic “mattress” that couldn't have been more than an inch thick. What startled him most, however, was the body fast asleep on top of the cot.

Lucy’s hair obscured her face, but Flynn had no doubt it was her. The burgundy dress had been replaced with grey sweatpants and a white tank top. Her breathing was slow, almost dangerously slow. Hesitantly, Flynn reached out, brushing the hair from her neck.

He inhaled sharply at the feel of her skin. He hadn’t touched her in so long, and even now it felt...wrong. Undeserving. From the moment he met her he knew she was too good for him. People like her deserved better, better than anything he could provide. Sitting here, Flynn tried to convince himself that he started that fight with Wyatt for his own selfish reasons, for his need to be and act in control. 

But looking at Lucy here and now, he knew that was anything but true.

He wanted her to hate him. Hatred was safe; hatred meant she wouldn’t fall victim to his own personal curse. Everyone he ever loved had died, after all. That alone was incentive enough to make sure Lucy Preston never came close to loving him.

But Flynn was slipping, he knew it. The third time he felt her lips on his he swore he could never go without that feeling again. But that wasn’t love...not yet, which meant he had time to make her hate him all over again. It was the right thing to do.  _ The right thing to do. _

Pushing those thoughts aside, he felt for her pulse. With a deep breath, Flynn sighed with relief. She was fine...for now.

“Get your hands off of her.” Wyatt’s voice was gravely. The drugs obviously still clouded his awareness. Flynn turned around, spotting Wyatt on the other side of the bars. In a separate cell connected to theirs, Wyatt pushed himself to a stand, grasping the bars for dear life.

“Or what?” Flynn raised an eyebrow. He was obviously more aware than Wyatt, and he would never forgive himself if he passed up this rare opportunity at amusement.

“Or…” Wyatt blinked, looking to a lump beside him. A lump named Rufus. “I’ll make you regret it.”

The threat landed harmlessly. Flynn retracted his hand from Lucy’s face, standing up solidly. He strode to the cell bars.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Flynn teased. Beside Wyatt, Rufus began groaning. Wyatt glanced around the room, just now taking in their predicament. He shook his head clear.

“I’ve fought my way out of worse.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“See, that’s the thing.” Flynn smiled, peering down at him. “I think you do.”

“Stay away from her,” Wyatt said. For once, he didn’t take the bait. If he weren’t so disappointed, Flynn would've been proud. He couldn’t forget the look on Wyatt’s face after what he’d said.

_ Lucy isn’t the type to kiss and tell. _

God, it had felt so good. The shock, the horror, the jealousy; it was everything Flynn had hoped for and more. The fight was back, the adrenaline, the chase.

But then he saw Lucy’s face, and everything came crashing down. But that was his curse, wasn’t it? It had always been Flynn’s curse. To want so much, he causes pain. To love so much, he destroys. 

At least this was destruction he could control.

“Where are we?” Rufus muttered, his eyes squinting against the low light.

“Finally, someone has asked a relevant question.” Flynn clapped his hands, surveying the room. Wyatt and Rufus exchanged a glance.

“Well?” Rufus asked. Water dripped from a pipe in the corner but otherwise, there was silence.

“What?” Flynn looked between the men. Rufus sighed.

“You’re the Rittenhouse expert here. Don’t you have all the answers in your little diary?”

Flynn rolled his eyes, pacing the cell.

“First off, it’s Lucy’s journal-”

“That you stole.” Rufus interjected. Flynn narrowed his eyes at him.

“Borrowed. Even then, Lucy never wrote about this.”

“None of it?” Wyatt’s fist tightened on the metal.

Flynn shook his head. “Nothing. No brother, no Rittenhouse, and certainly no weird prison in a cement dungeon.”

There was a heavy silence. Flynn took the opportunity to fully examine the room around them. From what he could see, there were four cells, two on either side of the large basement. Rufus and Wyatt’s cell was closest to the large steel door that Flynn assumed was the exit. On each cell, there was an intricate system of padlocks and chains. Someone was very keen on keeping them here. All of them.

Flynn glanced back at Lucy, still peacefully unconscious. 

“What do you think they want with us?” Rufus broke the silence. 

_ Us. _ It was weird for Flynn to hear the word, it had become so foreign to him. Wyatt shook his head.

“No idea. But I’m still not entirely sure that Flynn has nothing to do with this.” Wyatt accused. Flynn barked out an exaggerated laugh.

“You think I’d lock myself in here with you two idiots? Trust me, Wyatt, there is nothing I enjoy less than your company.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Wyatt spat.

Before Flynn could craft a retort, the door burst open. 

Ever the alert soldiers, Wyatt and Flynn attempted to spring into action, but the effects of the drugs appeared to be too much. Both men barely managed a shaky step before falling off balance, landing ass first to the floor. Five men entered the room, three of them outfitted with machine guns. The other two sauntered in behind the armed men, sporting suits fit for a queen.

The machine guns circled the two cells, safety clicking off. Flynn was no mathematician, but even he could calculate the odds of getting out of this one.

The first man was Ian, almost unrecognizable in a tightly fitted suit. The second man was middle aged, wrinkled and pale. Ian glanced at Lucy and craned his neck in confusion, turning to the soldier nearest to him,

“What’s with the girl? Why is she still out?” He asked, nodding to Lucy. 

“I dunno. Albert, how much did you give her?”

The soldier closest to Flynn bent down, squinting at Lucy where she lay unconscious. He shrugged.

“Don’t know. I just gave her what I gave them.” He rose back to a standing position. Ian scoffed, shaking his head, 

“You gave her the same dose as them? Jesus, Albert, she’s half the size of them!” He spat. Sighing, Ian turned to the older man beside him. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Judging by the dosage, she won't be awake for a few hours.” 

Motioning to the soldiers, they exited the room quickly, leaving only the suited men behind. Wyatt glared.

“What the hell do you want with us?” he asked. The men showed no emotion, no change in expression. They merely glanced each of them over before exiting the room, slamming the door behind them.

The sound of the steel lock clicking into place echoed throughout the room.

“Well,” Rufus sighed. “That went well.”

The next forty minutes passed in tense silence, only broken by the occasional fleeting escape plan.

“What about meals? They have to feed us.” Rufus dragged his finger along the bars for the tenth time in a row. 

“We’re imprisoned here illegally so technically they don’t  _ have  _ to do anything,” Flynn said. He paced the cell from the bars to the cot and back again, scratching the stubble on his chin.

“But if they wanted us dead they would have just killed us already, so it’s safe to assume we still have some value to them,” Wyatt sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. “Whatever the hell that may be.”

“All this talk of ‘us’ and ‘we’,” Flynn poked his arms through their shared bars, flashing an exaggerated smile. “Does this mean I’m part of the gang now?”

“Never.”

“Not a chance.”

“Will you boys just stop arguing for once?” Lucy grumbled. Flynn was at her side in an instant, kneeling next to the cot and pushing the hair from her eyes.

“Lucy,” he whispered, watching her eyelids flutter open. He exhaled a breath of relief, leaning back.

“Lucy!” Wyatt called, pressing his face against the bars. “Are you okay? Flynn, is she okay?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding, pushing her palm against her forehead.

“My heads a bit groggy, but I’ll be fine,” she whispered. Flynn nodded.  
“That’ll be the drugs. These idiots gave you one hell of a dose, I’m surprised you’re already awake.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be too shocked. You and Wyatt’s constant bickering could wake the dead.” She pushed herself up on her elbows, swiping his hand away. “Stop hounding me. I’m okay. Really.”

A fleck of dried blood fell from her head wound onto her cheek. Flynn wiped it away with the bed of his thumb. Lucy flinched, watching him with cautious eyes.

“Why do you care so much all the sudden?” Lucy said. She wiped the hair out of her face with her injured hand. The hand she injured by punching him in the face.

_ You deserved it. _

“You can’t be an asshole one minute and pretend to care about me the next,” she huffed. “So either be honest to yourself or don’t, I’m done playing this game with you.”

Flynn reared back, caught off-guard by the intensity of her stare. But she was right, she was always right. Making her hate him, convincing himself there can be a world where he doesn’t care about her, it’s all a game. It’s all a lie.

Because maybe she did care for him, too. Maybe there was a way he could do this right.

Flynn was snapped back into reality, forgetting for a moment that she had spoken to him.

“You scared me,” he breathed. He didn’t realize he had said it out loud until Lucy’s expression shifted, her eyes transforming from disorientation to something soft...vulnerable. Flynn quickly drew his hand away, standing up and turning to the others. He cleared his throat.

“She’ll be okay,” he reassured them. Wyatt and Rufus both breathed out their relief, sighing against the bars. Lucy sat up, shifting to sit with her back against the wall.

“God, it’s so cold.” She shivered, drawing her knees up to her chest. 

“There’s snow coating the windows.” Rufus gestured to the thin glass panes near the ceiling. Sure enough, ice webbed all four corners. The tint in the sky had a dark blue hue to it. “Big bro wont even supply any heating down here,” he grumbled, tightening his thin sweatshirt. “Or blankets.”

“Do we have any idea of where ‘here’ is?” Lucy asked, surveying the room. “Or when?”

“No,” Flynn said. “Just that we’re somewhere dark and cold.” He tugged at the cell door. “And fortified.”

“If we find out where we are, we can start planning an escape.” Wyatt paced the cell.

“How exactly are we supposed to do that? Even if we do get out of the cell, there could be dozens of armed Rittenhouse freaks we’d have to fight through. We need strength. We need time.”

“Well, that's optimistic,” Rufus murmured.

“He’s right.” Lucy nodded. Wyatt’s head snapped to her, a strange look in his stare. Lucy rubbed her eyes, exhaling a deep breath. “We’re exhausted. We need to give time for the drugs to leave our systems before we can do anything.” She glanced up at the window. “It’s almost night. I vote we sleep first, escape plan later.”

The three men were silent for a moment. Rufus was the first to nod, clearing his throat.

“I agree. Either these drugs are still messing with me or Wyatt’s face is looking slimier than usual-”

Wyatt elbowed him in the gut.

“What happens when tomorrow comes and we’re unprepared?” Wyatt huffed. “We have no idea what they’re planning.”

“We deal with it, Wyatt. Because that’s what we do.” Lucy tried to stand but failed, electing to lean forward instead.

“No, that's what  _ we _ do.” Wyatt gestured to Lucy and Rufus. “Not him.”

“Wyatt-”

“He’s right. I’m not one of you,” Flynn glanced at Lucy. “And I understand that no matter what I do, I never will be. You’ll never trust me.” He swallowed, turning back to Wyatt. “But we have a common enemy, so trust me on this. I want to get out of here as much as you, and you’ll do a hell of a lot better with me fighting by your side.”

Heavy breathing clouded the air in the cells, the heat mixing with the cool breeze. Lucy rubbed her hands together for warmth, watching, waiting for Wyatt to say something. Anything.

“Fine,” he said. They nodded, finally in agreement. 

“There is one more thing we need to discuss,” Rufus said. “I call dibs on the bed.”

Wyatt and Rufus dissolved into bickering, arguing over who ‘deserved’ the cot. Lucy rolled her eyes at them.

“I’ll take the floor,” Flynn murmured. When she glanced at him, he refused to look at her. He saw her nod in the corner of his eye. Once the bickering ceased, Flynn laid down on the cement floor. Rufus had gotten the bed, something Wyatt begrudgingly disagreed with for the next twenty minutes. Eventually, the room grew quiet.

Flynn was halfway to a restless sleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, blinking in the dim room. Lucy was drenched in moonlight, her face partially obscured by shadows. 

“I’m freezing,” she whispered. Flynn sat up, shifting on the concrete. He looked at her, not knowing what she wanted to hear.

“Me too,” he said, watching his own breath cloud in front of his face. There was a pause, and Lucy glanced at Wyatt and Rufus in the other cell. When she looked back at Flynn, she scooted over on the cot, eyeing the empty space there. Without another word, Flynn stood up and shuffled to the cot. Lucy laid back down, tucking her hands under her head and turning her back to him. Slipping in beside her was somehow the easiest and hardest thing he’d ever done.

_ You don’t deserve this _ , a voice inside him said.  _ You’ll only hurt her and yourself, then you’ll lose her. _

He pushed the voice away, not bothering to shy from her touch. They were so close, and his arm had no place to go other than around her waist. He felt her warmth instantly. Her breathing was slow, steady, a complete contrast to Flynn’s thrumming pulse. Her hair smelled like vanilla, her breaths airy and calm. Soon, their breathing dissolved into a rhythm. His chest brushed her back with every inhale, her hair occasionally tickling his nose. 

“You’re wrong.” Despite her soft voice, she startled him from his thoughts. He shifted slightly.

“About?”

“Us,” she whispered. “You said we’ll never trust you.”

“It’s true. Wyatt hates me. He always will.”

Lucy sighed, turning onto her back. From here, Flynn could trace the outline of her face. The only light in the night sky was shining down on her, and Flynn could swear she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

“Hate and trust aren't mutually exclusive,” she said, eyes locked on the ceiling. “If we’re stuck here long enough, I think he’ll start to realize that.”

Flynn nodded, too mesmerized at the feeling of her so close to him to do much else. 

“I trusted you,” she said.

He stilled, the guilt creeping in. Always the guilt.

_ Because you ruin everything you touch. Like you ruined this. _

“I never meant to hurt you.” But he should have known better. She was bound to get hurt. 

“That was a shitty thing to say, by the way,” Lucy said. Flynn shook his head. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“It is.” She swallowed. “But it gave me an excuse to punch you. And punching you felt really good.” Her lips just barely formed a smile. Flynn scoffed.

“I’m glad you found some joy,” he said, gaze grazing over her eyes, her nose, her lips. “You should be thanking me.”

“Don’t push it.” She almost laughed. So did he. After a moment her smile faded. Lucy shook her head, finally turning to face him.

“You’re allowed to let people in,” she breathed. When their eyes met, the intensity was almost too much. 

“No, I’m not.”

“You are, Flynn,” she said. She was so sure of herself, so confident. Their gazes were locked tight, as if they were both just seeing each other for the first time. This close, he could study every inch of her face, every slight movement, like it was a dream. Suddenly, her face was shrouded in green and purple light, and Flynn was almost sure it was a dream.

He looked up, following the path of the colors. They stained the cell wall like mosaic, moving slowly, swiftly. Above them, light streamed in from sheets of color in the sky, floating like waves in the night. The colors were beautiful, alive, more than anything he’d ever seen. Dotted throughout the colors were flickering stars, molding together to form constellations. The shock made him sit up, Lucy close behind.

“Is that-”

“The northern lights.” She finished for him. Lucy inched forward until she was on her knees, peering as high as possible. “It’s so beautiful.”

Flynn glanced at Lucy, her lips parted in shock. Her eyes were wide with wonder. And for the first time in so long, Lucy looked genuinely happy.

“It is,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, drop a comment! I love to see what you're thinking.


	19. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....hi friends. I am so sorry I've been gone so long. I got really busy and honestly couldn't find the inspiration to keep this story going. But then I saw a few people recently get really invested in the story, and through their comments I somehow banged this monstrosity of a chapter out in one day. I really wanted to rush posting this so you guys don't have to wait any longer. Hopefully, I got my mojo back. But please, please, please keep commenting your thoughts, dreams, feelings, and wishes, it really helps me! Now, because its been so long, Ill put a summary of the previous chapters in the end notes, but honestly I suggest you go back a few chapters if you need a refresher. Anyway, thank you as always, and lets let these freezing cold and cuddling arch-enemies take it away.

She awoke to the feeling of breath against her ear.

Lucy was enveloped in warmth. The rough blanket pooled at her hips, secured by an arm that wrapped around her waist. As she inhaled, her back grazed against a wall of solid muscle

It was a foreign feeling. All of it was. The warmth, the tickle of air on her neck, rhythmic breathing that mirrored her own. For a moment, all Lucy could do was close her eyes and savor it, wishing that she could once again lose herself in the deep haze of sleep. The hand at her hip moved slightly, dipping beneath the fabric of her paper-thin shirt. The skin felt warm against her own, and Lucy had to stifle the shiver that ran down her spine; one that, this time, was not caused by the cold.

Still trapped in the haze between sleep and waking, Lucy nuzzled back into the body behind her. He responded by drawing her closer, exhaling into the crook of her neck. For a moment, Lucy had a passing thought about exactly who she was sharing this peculiarly tiny cot with. But it drifted away in seconds, replaced by the calling of sleep.

Garcia Flynn had been awake for hours, not that anyone would have noticed.

For the first time in years, he had a dreamless sleep. A sleep so deep that, in just a few hours, he’d felt rested enough to wake. Except he didn’t get up, he didn’t dare, because had woken up curled around Lucy Preston, and every sane thought in his mind seemed to have gone away. Because waking up next to her was something Flynn could have never prepared for, yet it was everything he needed and more.

When she closed the paper-thin gap between them, Flynn froze, terrified that a single movement would shatter this perfect moment. She was still for a few seconds before he couldn’t help himself, drawing his arms around her body tighter, pulling her as close to him as possible. He exhaled, convinced that this could quite possibly be the best thing to ever happen to him.

Until a door slammed in the distance, ripping him from his reverie.

“Did you hear that?” Lucy whispered, her breath clouding in the air. The light was just beginning to stream in from the dawn, coating their cell in the yellow tint of the sun. Flynn nodded.

“I think someone is coming,” he whispered, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from her waist.

“Nice of you to finally join us.” A cold voice spat from the cell next to them. Wyatt leaned against the bars, his back to them. “While you two were getting your beauty sleep, I figured out a way for us to escape.”

Lucy slid away from Flynn, shivering once before sitting up. She crossed the room, leaning against their shared cell bars. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Care to enlighten us?”

Wyatt scoffed, standing up. When he turned to face them, his eyes were sunken, rimmed with red. His gaze met hers, and Lucy swore she saw something in his eyes. Something close to pain.

“I don’t know, you and Flynn seemed comfortable enough with your accommodations.” His words were harsh but his tone was barely a hiss. “I would hate to spoil the fun.”

Flynn barked out a laugh. “Is that jealousy I’m hearing, Wyatt?” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall. “You really can be dense sometimes.”

“Screw you, Flynn.”

“Back at ya, super soldier.”

“Stop it. You’re acting like a child.” Lucy glared at Flynn before turning to Wyatt. “Both of you.”

Wyatt exhaled, grasping the bars. When he finally met her eyes, he raised an eyebrow. Waiting.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Wyatt,” Lucy said, crossing her arms. “It was cold last night, and we used each other's body heat to keep from freezing to death. I thought you, a soldier, would understand that.”

His face fell, gaze shifting from Flynn to Lucy. Wyatt straightened. “All night?”

“Wyatt.” She glared.

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her. It was all he could think to do to hide the hurt. After everything he’d done for her, after everything Flynn did to her…

How could he have missed it?

Finally, Wyatt sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” She turned around, pointing a finger at Flynn. “And you need to stop baiting him. You’re both acting like idiots when you should be working together to get us out of this damn hellhole. The only person here who isn’t acting completely stupid is Rufus, and that’s because he’s so deep in sleep that _apparently our shouting can’t even wake him up_!” She yelled the last few words, watching closely as Rufus scrunched his face where he was asleep on the cot, making no indication he was even conscious.

She sighed, lowering her voice. “Can you two just _please_ ,” she looked between the two men, “wait to kill each other until we’re out of this hellhole?”

Before either of them could respond, the door flew open. Apparently, the noise was loud enough to finally wake Rufus, who flung the blanket to the wall in his scramble to a standing position.

“Almost,” Ian said as he strode towards the cell doors. “I’ve almost figured it out.”

The room was silent for a moment. Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”

Ian smiled. “You. All of you.” He rubbed a pale finger against his chin, narrowing his eyes as he observed them. “I already know bits and pieces, but seeing you all in action? Incredible. Truly, it’s an honor.”

He rounded the cell, pointing at Rufus. “You’re the glue; the peacemaker, of sorts. Not only are you the brains and probably the most important part of the team, but you’re also the only reason it’s still intact.” Rufus tried his best to look unfazed. “You’re underestimated, even though you’ve proven by now that you’re perfectly capable. And you’re kind. Truly kind. Which is something so rare, even I have to admire you for it.”

Rufus glanced around awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “Okay, that was weird.” A few seconds passed before Rufus continued. “Am I supposed to say thank you?”

Ian ignored his comment, shifting over to Wyatt.

“And you. You’re the protector. You hide behind a mask of indifference with your practiced military bearing, but _god_ , you’re like an open book; brooding blue eyes with survivor's guilt so heavy it could sink a ship.” Ian scoffed, crossing his arms. “You pretend not to feel, but you do. You pretend not to care, but you do.” His eyes shifted to Lucy. “You care about her, more than you’ve cared about anyone in a long time. Part of you just wants what's best for her, even if it hurts you. It’s admirable, I can give you that.”

Wyatt straightened, his spine growing rigid. Ian continued through the silence, approaching Lucy and Flynn’s cell, still talking to Wyatt but his eyes trained icily on Lucy.

“And you can’t stand seeing them together. Not just because it hurts you, but you're afraid he’ll hurt her, too,” Ian said, stopping at the door to their cell. Lucy and Wyatt shared a look. He broke eye contact immediately, shifting uncomfortably.

“Now you two,” he glanced between Lucy and Flynn. “You two I can't quite figure out.”

Flynn scoffed. “Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

A menacing smirk grew on Ian’s face. “Funny, says the man who sleeps with his enemy.”

She couldn’t help it. Lucy’s eyes grew wide and her stomach dropped, and she imagined Flynn did the same. It wasn’t true; not entirely. They’ve kissed more than a few times, and technically they’ve slept in the same bed. What she and Flynn had done never amounted to more than feverish, stolen kisses, usually in the heat of anger. Somehow, though, ever moment between them, every time she they had shared a moment of traitorous affection, it all seemed far more intimate than sex.

But Ian seemed to miss this entirely, as the wicked grin grew on his face.

“Ahh there it is.” He clapped his hands together in excitement. “So the soldier is in love with Lucy, and my dear old sister over here is sleeping with the terrorist who you’ve sworn to kill. That's a bit awkward, isn’t it?” Ian took a step towards Lucy. “From everything I heard about you, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you. You always seemed so...innocent.”

She glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

After a long moment, Wyatt finally seemed to have gained back his composure, rushing at the bars. “What is this, some sort of psycho therapist session?”

Ian winked at Lucy before taking a step back. “Oh, no, I’m just deciding the best way to torture you all.” His eyes glazed over each of them, a mad look growing in his eyes. “And I think I’ve found my answer.”

The door burst open and two men with guns filed into the room. Ian motioned towards the cell.

“Take the tall one and the girl for now. Put ‘em in the icebox.”

Before Lucy could even think to piece together whatever the hell ‘icebox’ was, a black hood was being shoved over her head and her arms were yanked behind her back and secured with a rope. She heard shouting, mostly from Wyatt. Flynn’s booming voice was surprisingly absent, as was the usual landing of blows that came upon anyone dumb enough to capture Garcia Flynn.

Instead, she was led through the hallways in darkness. She knew Flynn was behind her from the sound of his heavy footfalls against the metal ground. After a few minutes of walking, and more than enough sharp turns to confuse her internal compass, a door opened in front of her. She felt a shove on her back and landed painfully on the ground.

Lucy heard a grunt, and suddenly felt the weight of five Elephants topple on top of her.

When the hood was ripped from her head, she understood why. Flynn was on top of her, hair disheveled from the hood and groaning from the impact. The door slammed shut, and the following click confirmed that they were locked inside.

It was a room even smaller than their cell, with four steel walls and a single light dangling from the ceiling. The corners were coated in ice, the entire room tinted silvery-blue. A steady stream of cool steam leaked from above. And it was cold; her skin screaming at the contact against the cool metal.

“Ow,” Lucy finally said, shifting beneath Flynn’s body. Her hands were still tied securely behind her back, and her shoulders were starting to burn from the weight of both bodies on her arms.

Flynn released a low grunt, but said nothing more.

Lucy squirmed below him. “Damn it, Flynn, get off. I can’t breathe.”

This seemed to finally reach him as he slowly rolled off of her, releasing his own grunt of pain. They lay there for a moment in silence, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. Neither of them said anything, letting the reality of their situation settle in.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his breath clouding in front of their faces. He finally sat up, sliding his bound hands under his butt and pulling his legs through so his arms were clasped in front of him instead of behind. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release the tension.

Lucy watched him with interest, sitting up and doing the same. It wasn’t much, but it was better. Her hands were still tied and her body still ached, but having her hands in front of her made her feel slightly less vulnerable.

She exhaled shakily, already feeling the effects of the cold. They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours before Flynn finally spoke.

“Are you okay?”

Lucy huffed, flashing a fake smile. “Oh, I’m great. Kidnapped, drugged, and imprisoned again. I’m having a wonderful time.”

“Lucy.” Flynn’s voice was serious and he was staring at her in that intense way. Lucy sighed, fiddling with the rope that bound her hands.

“I can’t stop wondering when my life became…” she hesitated, gesturing vaguely. “This”

Flynn hummed a note of interest. “You miss teaching?”

Lucy shrugged. “I miss when things like this weren’t an everyday occurrence.”

Flynn nodded, his expression suddenly coated in guilt. Lucy saw a slight blush creeping up his neck, and she could almost laugh at the sheepish look on his face. Everything that had happened to her, Rittenhouse, Mason Industries, the mothership…it was, after all, mostly his fault.

“You were never going to live a normal life, Lucy. None of us were.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

Flynn swallowed. “I just mean that I don’t think we…you and me…were ever meant for anything less.”

 _Less._ As if she and him were meant for greatness. Lucy furrowed her brow. She had never thought of it that way, the way that painted their actions as heroic, as something great. Sure, they saved lives. But Lucy never really thought of it like that. Her job was protecting history, saving lives was just a…fortunate consequence.

Despite that, Lucy found herself fighting the notion that she was meant for this. Well and truly _meant_ to do the things she does. So she scoffed instead, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You think we were destined to end up here? Tied up together in an icebox in the arctic?”

Flynn’s face grew more serious. “I thought you believed in fate.”

“I do,” she said, remembering how many times she tried to convince herself history was history because it was _theirs_ \- it was fate. But the more she saw the horrible side of her precious history, she started to believe it less and less. “Well, I guess…I did.”

“What changed?”

“You.” She said it so fast that she didn’t even realize it. She looked up, registering the look of shock on Flynn’s face. She rushed to explain herself.

“I mean, you showed me things. You showed me the truth about Rittenhouse, about my family and now…now I can’t stop thinking that it was never about fate.” She met his eyes. “That fate is nothing but Rittenhouse.”

Flynn seemed to consider for a moment, his brows dark and furrowed. He looked almost peaceful as he let himself stare into the distance.

“Maybe,” he said. Then he looked up, tilting his head. “Is it such a bad thing?” At her look of confusion, he continued. “That Rittenhouse brought us together.”

Now it was her turn to hesitate. But this time, she was looking at him. Really looking at him. He confused her so much, filling her with emotions she never thought could co-exist. There was hate, anger, resentment; but there was also excitement, freedom, and attraction that she couldn’t fool herself into fighting anymore.

“No,” she let the word fall from her lips almost without permission. Because that was the truth, and she and Flynn were far past lying to each other after everything they’d been through. This odd comfort she felt with him was nothing new, but now that she noticed it, she couldn’t ignore it.

She couldn’t fight the feeling that something about them was always meant to be.

“You think this was Rittenhouse’s plan?” Flynn asked. “To force us together, make us so confused and dysfunctional that they win by default?”

Lucy smiled. “No. I think there were a lot of ways this could have happened. This one is just one of the million timelines we changed.” She scoffed, smiling. “Like little lifetimes.”

“I wonder who we were in those lifetimes,” Flynn said casually, as if he were asking about the weather. Lucy fought the urge to move closer to him, drawn in by the soft tone of his voice.

Lucy sighed. “In another life, perhaps we’d never met. Or maybe I killed you, or you killed me, and no one was left to save the world.” 

“I don’t think so.” Flynn shook his head. “I don’t think there’s any world where we don’t find our way to each other eventually.” Lucy froze, meeting his eyes once again. He was staring at her so deeply, and when he continued his voice was almost a whisper. “And if there is, I wouldn’t want to live in it.”

 _Me neither,_ she wanted to say. But her lips wouldn’t move, they were stuck in a slightly parted shock as her heart sped up. She felt the base of her spine tingle.

And suddenly, she knew. She just knew. It was so simple, really, the way she went from feeling so conflicted to so…not.

 _You’re done for, Lucy Preston._ She thought to herself.

“How?” She breathed. “How did this happen? How did I go from hating you to…”

“Finding me incredibly attractive and charming?”

She laughed. Truly laughed. Flynn’s lips turned up in a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” he said. The realization made her smile grow even wider, a strange giddy confidence entering her veins.

“Well, odds are we’re about to be killed by my psycho brother, so I might as well face death with a smile on my face,” she said. Her words seemed to sober them, easing the pair into a comfortable silence. Lucy was the first to break it.

“I know you didn’t mean those things you said yesterday,” she said. Because no matter what he felt, their team was in desperate need of an attitude change.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

He looked at her. “I meant every word. Wyatt needs a reality check.”

“So do you, Flynn.” Her voice turned harsh. “You’re so caught up in this war that you don’t even realize who you’re fighting against anymore. We have a common enemy, no matter how much you hate to admit it.”

He was silent, staring at her. They both knew that he had no qualms fighting by her side. At this point, she’d come to expect his loyalty. To her and only to her.

But he needed to fight by Wyatt’s side, too.

She sighed. “A very wise smartass once told me that you can’t win the war until you know what you’re fighting for.”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “If that smartass is a certain soldier friend of yours, I have no interest in listening what he has to say.”

“I’m serious, Flynn.” She leaned forward onto her bound hands. They were much closer now. Somehow. “You started this mission fighting for something. But your mission has changed, and maybe that something has changed, too”

Flynn was so quick to try to defend himself, he almost missed the fleeting thought that entered his mind. The thought that told him his grief was always going to be there; but after so long, Flynn didn’t truly know who he’d be without it. He had thought about it, of course, that doing these horrible things in the name of his family was hurting their memory; hurting any chance he had at redemption on his own behalf.

He had ruined himself for them. And he’d do it again and again if it meant he could get them back. He had forsaken the world of the living in his mission to bring back the dead.

But that urge, that passion to fight to his dying breath, had slowly creeped away and transformed into something new. Because the world of the living had someone he cared about now, and he finally understood what it was like to fear losing someone who wasn’t lost yet.

Flynn bit his lip, nodding absently. “Maybe it has.”

Lucy blinked, catching the shift in his eyes. The way they hadn’t yet moved from hers. She swallowed. “I just think you need to figure out what it is you’re really fighting for.”

He nodded, and she saw his bound hands start to reach out to her, and she felt herself starting to do the same.

But the metal door slammed open, and they were roughly hauled to their feet.

“Time to go,” a deep, unfamiliar voice commanded. Lucy’s stomach dropped, panic picking up her breaths.

“Go where?” Lucy asked, unsuccessfully yanking her arms from the soldier’s grasp. She earned herself a punch in the stomach.

“Not you,” he said, signaling for his men to start moving. Flynn immediately started lashing out, more than Lucy had ever seen him before. He reared his head back, breaking the nose of the soldier restraining him with a sick crack. The one on his side was next, catching an elbow strike to the neck and a subsequent kick in the groin. Lucy tried to fight away from the man holding her, but he tightened his grip on her waist and chest. When she made a move to swing at him, the man punched her. She felt the taste of iron on her lip.

Flynn disarmed his final guard, catching the man in a chokehold. As if he felt her stare, his eyes locked with hers as the guard went down.

Flynn let his eyes linger on Lucy’s face before closing the distance between them in a fierce rush. One moment, Flynn was staring into her eyes. The next, his mouth was crashing down on hers.

As before, there was no gentleness, no tender strokes of skin against skin. His hands, bound by the wrists, bloodied and bruised, gripped the sides of her neck as he pressed down on her lips even harder.

He held onto her like he was afraid to lose her.

She tasted the fear on his lips, mixed with the saltiness of sweat and the iron of her blood. Fear that, faced with separating from her, he had wanted nothing more than to cross hell and earth to stay by her side.

The guard that restrained her tried to pull her away, to rip her from Garcia Flynn’s clutches. With the mobility that she still had, she allowed her hands to clutch at the shirt at his waist, rising on her toes to deepen the kiss, holding onto him for dear life. Begging him to stay.

A hand descended upon Flynn’s chest, then another at his neck, and another at his back. The guards’ punches followed, as did the sound of fists sinking into flesh. Only then did his lips separate from hers. Only then did she open her eyes and peer up at him, stare equally full of wonder and fear.

“I think I figured it out,” he breathed, his face clenched in pain, his muscles taught from fighting to stay close to her. A blow landed on his waist.

Lucy furrowed her brows. “Figured what out?” It was only then that she realized her fingers were still entwined in his shirt, and his own hands still gripped her neck and chin. Flynn let his muscles relax before succumbing to the guards, lowering his voice to a whisper. He ducked his head.

“What I’m fighting for.”

He was tackled then, thrown from his place before her into the metal wall. Lucy screamed, thrashing against the hold on her.

He was pulled from the wall by five different guards, face bloodied and bruised from their efforts. He was struggling less now, his expression a strange kind of indifference. He let the men move him, rough hands pushing him out of the doorway.

In the chaos of it all, somehow, Flynn managed to lock eyes with her one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Impasse...  
> Lucy got kidnapped by Flynn, spent some steamy, sexual tension-filled days with him, returned to her time boys, waited around for a while, got a little present-day visit from our favorite time cowboy, followed him to 1950s Algeria and was (of course) captured by local insurgents, who double-crossed Flynn by selling all four of them out to Lucy's half-brother from the future, who is now older and wiser and evil-er, and kidnapped them to imprison them somewhere in the artic with minimal heat and minimal beds. Meanwhile, Lucy and Flynn have had more than a few steamy moments, and Wyatt and Rufus are finally starting to realize it. 
> 
> Thanks! :)


	20. The Monster and The Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I still have some readers with me. If I do, please leave a comment to let me know how you feel!

Lucy had been pacing for hours.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Wyatt said, resting nonchalantly against the bars of their two cells. Flynn had been taken away hours ago, two of which she'd spent freezing her ass off alone in a metal icebox. They finally dragged her back to the cell after she almost collapsed from exhaustion. Her voice had nearly given out from screaming for him, begging for Flynn's release. Lucy dropped her arms to her sides, turning to Wyatt.

“How could you say that?” Her weak voice whispered. “They dragged him away kicking and screaming, not to mention my dear old brother literally bragged to us  _ about how to best torture us _ .” She kicked the bars. “They’re hurting him.”

“Flynn is like a cockroach, nothing short of an atomic bomb could kill that guy. He’ll be fine.” Rufus shrugged. Lucy looked at him incredulously.

“What the hell is going on with you guys?!”

Wyatt clutched the bars. “He’s a terrorist, Lucy-”

“Will you shut up with that ‘terrorist’ crap?” She shouted. “You know that's not true. You know it's more complicated than that, Wyatt.” Lucy looked at Rufus “And so do you.”

Her two boys exchanged a wary glance, and an uncomfortable feeling washed over her: the feeling to defend Garcia Flynn.

“Look, I know he’s done messed up things and I’m not saying he’s perfect. But if these past few weeks have taught me anything, it's that Flynn is an honorable man.”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “He killed Abraham Lincoln.”

Lucy hesitated, crossing her arms. “Well, I didn’t say he was good.”

She was met with yet another onslaught of blank, unamused looks. She huffed, shaking her head, wishing they could just see what she saw. There was something, some hole deep down in her chest that knew Flynn. Really knew him.

“What I mean is,” she hesitated, desperately searching for words. “He keeps his word. He’s been through hell like the rest of us and that's no excuse for the things he’s done. But he never lied to me.” Lucy lowered her voice. “He’s done many things to me, but lying was never one of them.”

When she looked at them, their faces remained the same cold indifference.

“That doesn’t mean he deserves our forgiveness,” Wyatt said. Rufus nodded with him, rather absently as he stared at a dirty spot on the cement floor.

Lucy nodded. “You’re right. He doesn’t. And I never said that I forgave him, but I’ve thought about it. More than a few times now.”

Now it was Rufus’ turn to speak up, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Lucy, about that-”

“No.” She turned her back to them, pacing the cell.

“We have to talk about it eventually,” Wyatt said. His voice sounded more distant, reluctant even.

“No, we don't.” Lucy knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she was too enraged to care.

“Yes we do,” Wyatt hissed. His tone shocked Lucy into turning around, registering the look in his eyes. “You can't preach to us about honesty and honor, then turn around to lie to our faces. We deserve more than that.”

Lucy sighed, and with her back to the wall, she slid down until she was curled into the cell’s corner. They were right. They had been nothing but loyal to her for so long, and she was starting to think that their constant fighting wasn’t entirely Flynn’s fault anymore. It was hers.

She sighed again. “You do.”

Surprised by her surrender, Wyatt straightened. “Good.”

An uneasy silence passed over them then, stretching dangerously long. Lucy didn’t want to tell them the truth; the truth that had taken her so long to realize. The truth that had taken her three feverish kisses and desperate last words, decades and stab wounds to discover. It was a fragile thing, the way she felt for him, and Lucy feared that it could break any second. She feared that reality would finally come crashing down on her and shake her from this reverie.

_ You love a murderer. You love a terrorist. You love someone who hurt you. _

She said those things over and over in her head constantly, and Lucy hated how she didn’t seem to care. Because that wasn’t all he was, not even close.

_ You love a monster. You love a hurricane. You love a man so tangled in passion that he would shatter time to be with you.  _

With her eyes cast to the ground before her, Lucy spoke softly. “You wont like the truth.”

When she looked up, Wyatt was looking at her with a scrutinizing stare.

“I didn’t think I would,” he said.

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, fully prepared to tell him everything, no matter how much it hurt. But she never got the chance.

Lucy hated the way the door sounded as it creaked open, torturously slow, like tombstones rubbing together. She was on her feet in seconds, horrified by what she saw. Ian strolled in with an ease to his step that sickened her. 

“Flynn,” she breathed. His name unwillingly slipped from her lips. Behind Ian, Flynn was limp, dragged by two men across the floor. One of the men dropped Flynn, letting him tumble to the ground in a silent heap of bloody limbs and torn fabric. The guard reached for the key. He unlocked her cell and the door swung open, while the guards dropped Flynn on the floor of her cell. Before the men could close the cell door once again, Lucy made an impulse decision she knew she would regret.

Clenching her fists at her side, she screamed and sprung forward, pushing both guards and dodging their hands. She heard Wyatt calling for her, but his voice was distant, muffled by her rage. Her fist connected with flesh, and it was the last thing she remembered before everything faded to black.

***

She came to with the feeling of cold cement on her cheek. Everything hurt when she tried to move, and a low groan escaped her lips.

“Lucy,” a voice whispered. She brushed it off, wanting so badly to be unconscious again. 

“Lucy.” It repeated. She grimaced, shaking her head. 

Lucy didn’t even consider opening her eyes until a shadow crossed over her, and a familiar smell reached her nose; vanilla and spice, with a hint of laundry detergent.

Flynn.

Her eyes flew open, and Garcia Flynn was hovering above her.

“Flynn,” she said it to make sure he was real. He nodded, and his hand lowered to her cheek. His finger brushed over the dirt that stained her face.

“Lucy,” he whispered in that heavy accent. It used to annoy her, the way he made her name sound like ‘Loocy’. But now, she couldn’t get enough. 

She knew Wyatt and Rufus were watching, but right now she didn’t care. The relief of seeing him alive, however bloodied and bruised he was, took over all of her senses. She threw her arms around his neck, and felt his hands cradle her back. He tucked his face into the crevasse of her neck, and she heard him inhale deeply.

“Are you okay?” He breathed, his hands traveling up and down her body, checking her for injuries.

Lucy pulled away. “Am I okay? Look at yourself.” His left eye was purple and yellow, and he bled from just about every place one could bleed from on their face. Nose, ears, mouth. 

“I’m fine, Lucy,” he said in a low whisper. “As long as you’re okay, I’ll always be fine.” She doubted it was soft enough to hide from Wyatt and Rufus, and she could already imagine the look on their faces.

His finger strayed to her forehead, and she inhaled sharply at the sting of pain she felt. 

“You need to stop getting hit over the head before your mind starts jumping through time as much as we do,” he said with a cocky smile. She didn’t have the energy to laugh, but she smiled.

She realized she was still partially laying down, and quickly moved to sit up. Lucy stood on shaky legs, nursing her head where she felt the angry welt growing. “What happened?” she asked nobody in particular.

“Flynn came to about five minutes before you did,” Wyatt replied, much to her surprise. He stood where he always stood, silently judging her from the cell bars. “You attacked Ian. Got him pretty good, too. Pretty sure I saw a tear in his eye when he ran away.”

Lucy met his eyes. “Huh,” was all she said.

“You attacked Ian?” Flynn asked. Lucy shrugged. A mischievous smile grew on Flynn’s face. “For me?”

Lucy scoffed, shaking her head. “Don’t flatter yourself. I did it for me, too.” There was a fraction of truth to the statement. She hated the man more than she thought possible. But it sounded like a lie as she said it, and she was pretty sure they could all tell.

Next to her, Flynn started swaying on unsteady feet. She hardly noticed it until Wyatt’s brows dipped in concern. “Flynn?” He asked.

She looked at him, just long enough to see him tumble to the ground.

“Flynn!” Wyatt and Rufus called out. Lucy did nothing but stare at first, watching as he lay limp on the ground. Her own head was swimming, too, and her vision was swirling in and out of focus. 

But fear forced her to brush that feeling away, and she dropped to his side. 

“Flynn,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. She shook his head back and forth, up and down, with no response.  _ Don’t panic. Not yet. _

She cursed, her hand finding the curve of his neck beneath his jaw. She waited. And waited.

“Well?” Wyatt asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned. Lucy inhaled deeply two, three times, hoping to expel the feeling of panic crawling up her throat. She felt the slightest movement.

“He barely has a pulse,” she said, hands fumbling over his chest. “I don’t- I don’t know what to do.” 

“CPR?” Rufus suggested, his own face pressed against the cell bars. She shook her head.

“What the hell do I do?” She shouted, cupping his face tighter. “Damn it, Flynn, wake up!”

Tears stung her eyes, and that feeling she was desperately trying to avoid came crashing in. “Lucy-” Wyatt said.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, fumbling to start CPR. She barely even knew what she was doing. She pressed down on his chest over and over again. “Please don't make me watch you die.”

His face was blank, cold. Lucy shook her head, finally letting the tears fall. She pressed down harder on his chest, quickly tilting his chin back and pressing her mouth to his. Lucy breathed air into his lungs, silently praying to a god she wasn’t even sure she believed in.

She straightened when her vision started swimming more than she could handle, when the sweat started building around her neck and her stomach churned in her gut. Lucy blinked long and hard, hoping to open her eyes to clarity.

“Lucy?” Rufus’ voice echoed. Why did it echo? 

More sounds started piling on top of each other, loud bangs that sounded like gunshots with distant shouting. In her blurry sight, she saw Wyatt and Rufus shouting, but she couldn’t hear them. Not anymore.

They looked weird this way, yanking against solid steel, faces contorted in rage and worry. She knew that Wyatt was calling to her, trying to rip through metal to get to her. Even in her barely-waking state, she knew it wouldn’t work. On her knees beside Garcia Flynn, she swayed, deciding to let gravity do what gravity does best. 

She fell to the cement, smacking her head against the ground. A whimper escaped her lips, but the welcome feeling of unconsciousness began to wash over her. On the walls of her cell, the same colors from last night appeared. Lucy laughed when the colors changed from green to pink, wishing she had the energy to reach out and touch them. The part of her mind that was still conscious happened to be where her curiosity was stored, because question after question entered her mind.

_ Am I seeing things? Why are there lights on the wall? _

_ They’re not on the wall,  _ the sane part of her said. _ They’re in the sky. _

_ Why are there lights in the sky? _

The sane part of her must have decided this didn’t warrant a response.

_ Who was I trying to save? Why aren’t I trying to save him anymore?  _

_ Because in you're in pain, and you don’t want to feel pain anymore. _

_ Does he feel pain?  _

_ Do you care? _

_ Yes,  _ her sane mind said. _ Yes, I do. _

_ Who’s next to me? Oh, the monster. _

_ How does a girl love a monster? _

_ How does a monster love a girl? _

_ How does a monster love anyone at all? _

_ Is any of this happening? _

When she saw what she did in the corner of her eye, she finally realized she was hallucinating. She had to be.

Because Agent Christopher was standing there with a gun in her hand. And the gun was pointed at her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluffiest I've ever written Garcy...I wonder if there will be more coming soon ;) Please comment/ kudos, tell me your hopes and dreams. And if you're in the US, please stay safe this week, especially if you live around the capital like me.


	21. Blood and Tears

Blinding pain was the first thing she could remember. Not that she remembered much. There were lights, gunshots, and a cold, cold breeze; everything else was mostly a blur. Lucy’s eyelids were far too heavy for her to even attempt to open them, and a pulsing ache bloomed behind her eyes. For a few moments, lying there was all she could do. 

Until Lucy realized that the bed she was on felt far softer than anything she could remember, and even in her lucid state, she felt the foreign texture of bandages draped across her skin. She groaned softly, attempting the slightest movement. A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Is she awake?” A low voice asked. 

“I don’t know.” Another replied. Someone grunted.

“They separated us, Wyatt. I tried to stay with her. To protect her-”

“You should leave,” it was a harsh, cruel tone that spat it out. Lucy almost winced.

“I’m sorry but I can't do that.” The tone was familiar in Lucy’s mind, and she finally recognized Flynn’s voice. “I’m not leaving her again.”

“If you truly wanted to protect her, you’d leave. You’re the cause of all of her pain, Flynn.”

There was a long drawn out silence. Lucy finally commanded her lungs to breathe, filing her nostrils with the smell of sterile metal and potent alcohol.

“I know.” She heard Flynn whisper softly. Suddenly, her dry throat heaved, rejecting the air she was so desperate to breathe. She jerked up, curling to the side and coughing painfully.

Lucy distantly heard someone calling for a doctor, vaguely feeling the water forced down her throat. When she finally opened her eyes, her vision was dizzy and hazy. Her coughs slowed, but the pain was still there. 

“Easy, Lucy,” someone whispered, tucking the hair from her face. It was a mans husky voice she heard, but her vision was too blurry to see who. So she took a guess.

“Flynn?” Her voice was weak.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m here, Lucy.”

She sighed in relief and, against every impulse to stay still and ease the pain, she hugged him again. Lucy wrapped her arm around his neck, and she heard him groan at the impact.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy whispered. “I’m so sorry I let them take you away.”

She felt his hands around her again, hoping this wasn’t a dream.

Flynn held her tighter. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Lucy pulled away, and her eyes came into focus just enough to spot the man over Flynns shoulder. Wyatt wasn’t looking at her like he usually did when she was with Flynn, like she had a secret that he wanted desperately to know. It was more a look of interest than anything else, which made Lucy feel...strange.

“Are you okay, Wyatt?” She asked, her voice still scratchy and weak. Wyatt nodded,

“Yeah. Just glad you’re awake.”

He looked at her pointedly, making sure Flynn made no mistake that Wyatt was talking to her, not him.

“What happened? How did we escape?” She asked. She held her palm to her head, where she felt gauze wrapped around her forehead. Before either man answered, a hiss sounded, and Denise entered the room with Rufus on her heels.

“Lucy!” Rufus shouted. Lucy winced, and her other hand flew to her ear. The man backed away. “Oh shit I’m sorry, I forgot about the-“

“Massive and repeated head trauma?” Lucy said sarcastically. “Don’t worry, I’d rather you all not baby me.”

“Good,” Denise said, approaching Lucy’s bed. “The doctor said you’ll need at least a week to heal from the superficial injuries. You’ve had multiple blows to the head, and the doctor said you have a moderate concussion; that will take a bit longer to heal.”

“That’s it? A concussion?” Flynn asked. All eyes immediately flew to him.

“Yes.” Denise crossed her arms. 

“Unless you did something horrible to her you’re not telling us about,” Wyatt spat from his corner, glaring at the other man.

“Wyatt,” Rufus warned.

Flynn grit his teeth. “I never hurt her.”

“Bullshit, Flynn. We all saw her after you kidnapped her.” Wyatt took a step forward, eyes flickering from Lucy to Flynn. “Or am I somehow the only one who seems to remember that!?”

“Like you’re so perfect,” Flynn hissed, his grip tightening on the hospital blanket.

Wyatt leaned over until the men were eye to eye. “Compared to you I’m a saint.”

“I wonder what your wife would have to say about that,” Flynn said.

Wyatt didn’t even have a chance to lunge at him like he needed to. Denise’s gun was in her hand in an instant, trained on Wyatt but less than an inch from Flynn, too.

She glared between the two. “That’s enough, boys.”

Flynn looked like he wanted to say more, but he nodded, looking away. Desperate to change the topic, Lucy cleared her throat.

“How did we escape?” Lucy asked. She sat up to the best of her ability, still feeling the slight swirl in her stomach. She had a nagging feeling in her mind, the feeling that she was forgetting something very important. Lucy brushed it off.

“Thank Rufus,” Denise said. “He scratched graffiti into the wall of the cell.”

They stared at her blankly. The tension was easing a bit, but Lucy felt Wyatt glaring at her silently.

Denise continued. “You weren’t just in the arctic. You were in the Arctic in 1951, in a not-so-secret secret base run by the British during the war. Thanks to Rufus’ misspelled ‘Kilroy was Here’ graffiti, you guys were all over the internet by present day.”

“Killroy was here?” Flynn asked. Rufus was far too eager to respond.“A series of graffiti that emerged during the war. It was drawn all over the world by soldiers and each instance is well documented. It was a…contingency plan, of sorts, if we ever got captured in the past, that Agent Christopher would look for any instances of that graffiti tag with one caveat.”

Lucy thought for a moment. “The misspelling.”

“Exactly,” Agent Cristopher replied.

Flynn turned to Rufus. “So, what did you write?”

Rufus tried to hide a smile, but he failed. Miserably. “Killjoy was here.”

“We had the graffiti dated by an expert who gave me a rough timeline. Let’s just say I had to ballpark it from there,” Denise finished. Lucy just now noticed how exhausted the woman looked, red-rimmed eyes and sunken cheeks that revealed a far more complicated story than the one she was telling.

“Thank you, Agent Christopher. For everything,” Lucy said. The woman nodded.

“Of course.”

But there was still something there, in the back of Lucy’s mind, that stuck out. She was missing something, something big. Lucy sat there for a moment, distantly hearing the others voices while she shuffled through her hazy memories. It took almost a full minute for her memory to piece it all together, to finally form the face of the one she missed more than anything. Lucy inhaled sharply.

“Amy.”

The voices stopped, eyes snapping to her.

“It was Amy,” Lucy breathed, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I saw her.”

Denise cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucy.”

Lucy’s head shot up, her eyes wide with anticipation and shock. “You were there, you were holding a gun to her head-“

Flynn put his hand on Lucy’s arm gently. “Wait, your sister?”

“Yes. She was kneeling and you-“ Lucy glared at Denise. “You were pointing a gun at her.”

In the corner of her eye, had Lucy not been so focused on the woman in front of her, perhaps Lucy would have seen the two men in the corner exchange a wary glance. But her rage was too strong, and her fierce overprotectiveness took hold.

“Lucy, you need to calm down. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Agent Christopher approached Lucy gently, like one wrong step would break her.

“I know what I saw!” Lucy shouted.

Wyatt winced, running his hand over his mouth. He hovered in the corner with Rufus, both of whom had been pointedly silent.

Denise lowered her voice to a whisper. “Lucy, you’ve been through a lot. You need to rest, you need-“

“Don’t tell me what I need!” Lucy nearly tore herself off the bed. Flynn caught her around her waist, pulling her into his chest. Lucy sobbed, her face scrunched up in pain. Pain caused by so many different things. 

“Lucy,” he breathed into her ear, his breath on her neck. “Lucy, please.”

That was all he needed to say. It was all she needed to hear to ground her back into reality, to the here and now where she was hurt, tired, and most of all, logical.

Lucy had been nearly delirious when Amy appeared. She was starting to lose count of how many times she’d been knocked unconscious, and delusions are a common side effect of head trauma. Her head still ached from the impact, and the concoction of stress and drugs still swirled in her system. Amy had been gone for weeks. Lucy breathed out slowly and shakily, expelling the hysteria from her system. 

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Amy.

Lucy sagged into Flynn’s arms, her legs nearly giving out. Denise shot Flynn a look of reluctant approval.

“Go home, Lucy. Your fiancé has been calling non-stop,” the woman said. It took Lucy a few seconds to register her words.

“My fiancé?” Lucy’s grip tightened the arm secured around her waist. Flynn’s hold on her responded in kind, his arm pulling her closer.

Denise furrowed her brow. “Noah.” Lucy stared at her blankly. “You don’t remember him?”

_ Noah _ . Goddamn it all. 

Lucy shook her head clear. “Right, right. Noah.”

“And your mother has been worried sick. Lucy, you need to go home.”

Lucy instantly felt her stomach twist at the thought, the memory of Captain Thomas Preston still singed into her memory. Her family was Rittenhouse. She was Rittenhouse, this was…this was all Rittenhouse. Does that mean her mother is too? Noah?

Lucy felt the sudden urge to look over her shoulder.

“Ok,” Lucy said, despite the fact that she was very not okay.

Denise smiled softly. “Good. I’ll get a car.”

Lucy gave a weak smile as she pushed past the woman, her breaths too fast for normalcy. She was panting now, her hand attempting to find balance along the wall as she made her escape. Flynn never left her side, guiding her from the room.

The door closed softly, and Denise shut her eyes and swore colorfully.

Wyatt and Rufus were statues in the corner, arms crossed tightly over their chests. Rufus finally felt like he could breathe now that Lucy was gone. Agent Christopher turned around to face the pair, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Rufus glared at the woman. “Why did you lie to her?”

***

Lucy hurt the whole ride home. 

The car stopped in front of her mother’s house. The same house where she grew up, had her first kiss, broke her first (and second) bone, and fell in love with history. It was all here. 

But it was different now. And Lucy couldn’t quite figure out why.

So she ducked down once the agent left, sneaking to the side of her house where she knew the garden hose could act as a stepping stool for the small window near the living room. She used to spy on Amy’s dates in this window. Her heart felt a stab of pain at the thought.

“-weeks. I don’t know where she’s gone.” It was her mother. Lucy ducked down, gripping the windowsill so hard her fingers began to ache.

“What are we supposed to do? We can’t just order an assault on Mason Industries.” 

Lucy shouldn’t have been surprised; she shouldn’t have felt the betrayal she did. She knew this was coming, she just wished she had been more prepared for it. Lucy peered through the glass, watching Noah as he paced the living room.

“Why not? We have the manpower. We have Connor Mason wrapped around our finger,” her mother said. Her tone sounded different, somehow so cold and vicious.

“And then what?” Noah scoffed. “We lock her up in solitary confinement until she goes insane? Like we did with her sister?”

“Don’t-“ her mother hissed, glancing around the empty room. “Don’t say those things, Noah. They’re listening.”

“I don’t give a damn if they’re listening. You saw what happened to your other daughter,” Noah whispered harshly. “You really want Lucy to go through that, too?”

Her mother took a deep breath, rubbing her palm against her forehead. Her eyes almost landed on Lucy, but she ducked down. Hopefully fast enough. There was a slight lull in conversation, and Lucy held her breath.

“Lucy is too stubborn to join me,” her mother whispered. “I’m afraid it’s the only way.”

She’d heard enough. With a soft grunt, Lucy stifled her cries as she pushed away from the window. And then she ran.

Lucy had no idea where she was going. All she could feel was the pain in her head as her feet slapped the pavement, the chill breeze stinging her lungs as she huffed for air. Her own mother betrayed her, lied to her, planned to kidnap and lock her up, and she felt her heart break at the thought. Her own mother.

The bandage around her head was slick with sweat, and Lucy sobbed as she tore it away, ripping open her wound and letting it bleed. 

Red dripped across her vision until her tears mixed with blood, and Lucy could no longer tell if she was crying or bleeding. Or both. She felt bare. An empty, stinging, aching pain bloomed as she pushed herself through the low-lit streets. It wasn’t until she came upon an empty alleyway when Lucy finally stopped. She heaved for air, pressing her back against the brick wall and letting her body slide to the damp street below. Lucy dug her fingers into her hair, turning her face into the crook of her elbow and stifling the sobs that came next.

When she opened her phone minutes later, she did it without thought. Her fingers dialed numbly, her mind completely empty of want or need. This was instinct. Pure instinct. 

A soft voice answered, and Lucy stared straight ahead.

“Hello?” it said again. Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but nothing escaped her lips. Nothing but the mist of the cool night air.

“Lucy? What happened?”

Maybe it was the way he said her name. Maybe it was the concern in his voice, the way he cared for her like no one else. The way he hated everyone else but her. Maybe it was the pain that made her open her mouth, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I need you,” she whispered.

***

He was on the wrong side of town; for him, at least. Because he knew this was where Lucy lived, and he always made sure to stay clear of this particular area. If he came too close, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. 

But it was too late for that, because her voice had sounded so desperate over the phone, and it had been so long since someone needed him. Truly needed him.

She wasn’t in the bar where she said she’d be. Flynn scanned every brunette face in the building, searching for Lucy’s. He huffed, almost walking up to the bartender when he suddenly remembered exactly  _ who _ he was looking for.

Lucy Preston would never cry in public.

He checked the bathrooms first, much to an older woman’s dismay. He walked through the kitchens next, ducking down between every nook and cranny until he stumbled out of the side door.

He heard her before he saw her. Not crying, but not silent either. More like desperate intakes of breath, teetering on the edge of tearless sobs. Flynn didn’t hesitate. He ran to her side, lifting her head up to look at her in the dim yellow light of the alley. He held her face in his hands, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. His eyes searched hers.

“Oh, Lucy,” he whispered. She finally looked at him, her eyes painfully empty. Flynn almost wished that he saw desperation in her eyes, something that he knew and understood. But there was nothing but blank misery. She exhaled heavily. 

Without a word, he dragged her to her feet. He supported her as they walked to his car, and said nothing as he buckled her in and started to drive. She was silent for a while, wordlessly staring out the window.

“I have nowhere to go,” she said, her eyes fixed on a point far away. 

“That’s not true,” Flynn replied. She said nothing to that, did nothing at all, just continued to stare. If his words had shocked her, she didn’t show it. Flynn glanced at her. Her face had a streak of blood down the side, blood that tangled in with her hair and neck. The lights flashed by, revealing her tear stained cheeks and blank expression. In her lap, her fingers twisted around one another, a nervous habit she had just recently picked up.

He pulled into the garage, careful to wait until the door fully closed. Flynn opened her door and led her to the elevator, clutching her arm as they ascended into the upper floors of the building.

The inside looked like a castle, Lucy thought to herself. The interior of the elevator alone was gilded with gems and crystal mirrors. The button made a soft chime, and the doors slid open to reveal a penthouse. Lucy’s mouth dropped open. 

“Being a criminal has its perks,” Flynn said as he pulled her into the foyer. Lucy could do nothing but gape at the extravagance of it all.

But her wonder was soon overpowered by her exhaustion. Flynn was faithfully beside her when she fell, and Flynn quickly adjusted her in his arms. He hooked his arm underneath her knees and cradled her head on his shoulder as he walked through the apartment. They turned down a hallway, but Lucy closed her eyes before she could see where.

She was placed on a cold tile floor, and she flinched where it met her bare skin. The distant sound of water running reached her ears, which intrigued her enough to peek through her tired eyes. 

Flynn had rolled up his sleeves to turn on a shower faucet above a plain porcelain bathtub. She looked at him. 

He stared at her wordlessly, peeling the jean jacket from her arms. It felt good to be free of her filthy clothes, so she exhaled as they came off. He lowered his head and untied her sneakers, tugging both her shoes and socks off until she was left in her grey shirt and leggings.

Lucy’s head rolled limply to the side as she felt the warm mist of the shower fall over her. In the corner of her eye, she saw Flynn reach for the waistline of her leggings before going still. She met his eyes slowly.

Both of them said nothing. Lucy didn’t know why; she should've stopped him. She should’ve said something to him, anything at all instead of just staring at him. But she was too enthralled by his face, the way his lips parted slightly while looking at her. Suddenly, Lucy's heart started beating very, very fast.

Before she could say anything, his hands moved away, creeping up her arms and gripping her shoulders tightly. He helped her to her feet and slowly led her into the shower, carrying most of her weight against his own wounded chest. The scorching hot water immediately eased the throbbing pain, and Lucy gasped as the water sunk through her clothes and onto her skin. Flynn blinked slowly and started to pull away, but Lucy reached out and caught his hand.

She met his gaze.

“Stay,” she breathed.

He hesitated. Flynn's hands moved slowly, slipping from her grip to the back collar of his black shirt. He pulled it over his head and dropped it on the damp floor before climbing in behind her. She trailed the scars on his back, the criss crossed slashes and splotches of bullet holes that turned his skin into a canvas. Lucy couldn’t help but study them, and the thought entered her mind that if his scars were a painting, it would be beautiful.

The water soaked her thoroughly, and her own shirt clung to her chest uncomfortably. Without really thinking, Lucy grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, dropping it right beside his on the bathroom floor. Her black sports bra was soaked through now, too, but her cheeks flared red at the thought of removing that as well. 

Lucy caught Flynn's eyes as they raked over her, lingering too long on where the water soaked her chest. She couldn’t blame him for that, as she had done the exact same. The pain she had felt before was muffled now, a cold throb in her chest as opposed to the blinding and numbing misery of before.

She let the water soak her hair, feeling it trail across her eyes and lips. Flynn followed a single drop of water that landed on her mouth and he reached out, stroking her skin. His eyes flickered between her lips and mouth.

“Always, Lucy,” he whispered. “I’ll always stay.”

Past the blinding pain, buried deep beneath the mess that she was, there was a part of Lucy telling her to stop. But that voice was too far away to listen to, and Flynn was too close. Way too close. So she stroked his arms, her fingers travelled up his tan chest and into his hair. Lucy raked her hand through his dark locks as she felt his own hands brushing against her waist.

“I know,” Lucy breathed. She had no idea how she got to this point, tightening her fingers in his hair as she moved impossibly closer. Garcia Flynn was everything she was supposed to hate, and somehow everything she needed.

When their lips touched, it felt both gentle and hard, somehow soft yet all consuming. Lucy’s fingers trailed down his neck, holding him as tight as she could so he wouldn’t leave her. Maybe this time, someone would stay. 

So she moved more fiercely now, and Flynn matched her fire with an intensity of his own. He groaned softly into her mouth, quickly deciding that they weren’t close enough.

He grabbed her waist and hauled her into his lap until her knees straddled his waist. Lucy was too caught up in his kiss to complain, wrapping her arms around his neck and inhaling every last piece of him. The water pelted them, soaked their skin entirely. His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek, his teeth scraping against her jaw before descending upon her neck. She couldn’t tell if she was dizzy from the concussion or his kiss, but the combination sent her stumbling to the side. Lucy braced herself on Flynn’s shoulder, who ripped his mouth from her skin when he felt her grasp onto him.

Lucy stared into his eyes, at least she tried, before her vision started fading away. The last thing she felt was Flynn’s hand cupping her cheek before she drifted off into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping + Concussion = very very not good. But when I got my concussion, all I wanted to do was sleep, so hopefully that made this more realistic. Let Lucy Sleep 2021, this girl needs it. 
> 
> Also the 'Lucy passing out count' is well over 5 now in this story which I find hilarious.
> 
> If you're like me and you usually get bored when the enemies fully turn into lovers, do not fret, because these enemies aren't done being enemies just yet. This is Garcia Flynn, after all.
> 
> As always, comments are the only thing keeping me going, so please tell me how you feel!


	22. No Talking. Just Drinking.

Lucy truly started to believe that sleep was preferable to waking.

That, or her concussion was worse than she thought. Because the mere thought of crawling out of the far too comfortable bed was a grueling task. The light streamed in from the massive window to her left, but it was a weird light. It was dull and yellow and the opposite of the sun. Only when Lucy peeked open her eyes to glance at the clock did she realize that it was the middle of the night, and the city of LA itself was the culprit of the strange sight.

When she sat up, she finally registered how high up they were. Only the rooftops of the tallest buildings were visible through the window, that and the grayish clouds that hovered in between. As she approached the glass, her eyes trailed down to the miniscule street below.

“Sleep well?”

Lucy gasped, whirling to face the door. Garcia Flynn leaned against the wooden frame, hair tousled and lips curled in a smirk. 

“Apparently not,” Lucy said after a moment. “It’s still night.”

“You’ve been asleep for twenty hours, Lucy.”

She tried to school her features, but Lucy was never too good at that. Her mouth dropped open.

“Twenty hours?” 

Flynn nodded.

Lucy turned back to the window, reaching up to scratch at her now matted hair.  _ Twenty hours. She’s been gone for almost a day. A whole day without monitoring Rittenhouse, her mother, her fucking fiancé… _

“Nothing happened while you were out, Lucy,” Flynn said behind her, reading her thoughts a bit too well. Lucy shook her head, glancing over her reflection in the glass before turning around.

“How can you know that?” She asked. Someone would have called her. She needed her phone. Lucy ruffled the pristinely white sheets of the bed, feeling for her phone beneath the blanket. When that failed, she lifted the pillow. “Where’s my phone?”

“Relax, Lucy.”

She slammed the pillow on the bed. “Where the hell is my phone, Flynn?”

The man didn’t respond, instead letting his eyes wander over her body. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Lucy looked down. The shirt she had on was about three sizes too large, a dulled white cotton with a hem that landed on her upper thigh. It smelled familiar, too, but felt strange with the scent on her and not him.

Oh, and her pants were gone. Very much gone. 

Lucy figured she had two choices now: shrink away like the old Lucy would’ve done, maybe spit some insults at him while she’s at it. Or she could do something very unlike Lucy Preston, something tempting and tantalizing and maybe a bit dangerous.

But Garcia Flynn only knew danger, and Lucy was beginning to understand why.

Lucy dropped her arms to her sides. “Enjoying the view?”

Flynn’s eyes shot to hers. He straightened then, pushing off of the doorframe and stepping into the room. 

“You know I am, Lucy.”

His voice was dark and just a bit breathy, and his eyes...jesus, when did his eyes get so dark?

The memories just before falling asleep began to stir in her mind. Memories of fervent kisses, soaking wet clothes, taught muscles and wet hair, heavy breaths and-

Lucy had to fight the temptation to dart from the room. Instead, she took a step forward.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You asked me to.”

“But why did you bring me  _ here _ ?” Lucy let her eyes roam around the far-too-fancy-for-the-likes-of-Flynn room. “I mean, what is this place?”

Flynn regarded her for a moment, eyes quickly flicking to her bare legs before meeting hers again. “I wanted to take you somewhere Christopher wouldn’t expect.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “And why are you hiding me from Agent Christopher?”

“I’m not,” he broke off, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. “I’m not hiding you, Lucy. I just wanted to get away from it all. From the time machine, from Rittenhouse, from Wyatt, from Rufus…”

Lucy crossed her arms. “Not from me?”

“Never,” he said a bit too quickly. “I mean, no.” He shifted uncomfortably, feigning indifference by leaning on the desk. “You’re not nearly as insufferable.”

Lucy scoffed. “Gee, thanks.”

They sat there for a moment in relative silence, and Lucy shivered at a sudden cool breeze that brushed past her legs. Flynn seemed to notice, opening a drawer and tossing her a pair of black sweatpants. Lucy took them without a word, slipping them on and tying a tight knot at the waist. They were still huge, but they were better than nothing.

It hadn’t escaped Lucy that Flynn had yet to take his eyes off of her. So when she straightened, she met his gaze. He cleared his throat before offering his hand. 

“Care for the grand tour?”

In reality, that was the last thing she wanted. As the minutes passed, clarity was beginning to return, exposing Lucy to every terrible thing that has happened in her life recently. So no, Lucy didn’t want a goddamn tour.

She pushed past him, bypassing his outstretched hand and deliberately shoving his shoulder with her own. “I need a drink.”

He recovered quickly. “I don’t think that's the best idea.”

Lucy turned around sharply, stopping Flynn in his path. He stumbled almost, which was strange for someone like Flynn. “And I don’t care what you think.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, Flynn did the same. He watched her for a while, his face had a strange expression, one Lucy didn’t want to explore. Finally, the man tilted his head, gesturing to the nearest countertop. 

“Fine. Then help yourself, Lucy.”

Lucy nearly cringed when he said her name. Why does he  _ always  _ have to say her name? And always like... _ that _ ?

“Don’t mind if I do.” She shot him a toothy grin, slipping around the counter and opening the minifridge. She busied herself with collecting a mixture of hard alcohols and mixers, seltzers and beers. She rubbed her hands together, slamming a glass on the table before screwing open the caps of the drinks. 

It had been a long time since Lucy felt this sort of abandon; this senseless disregard of propriety. It was a bit freeing, to be honest. Normally, she’d be embarrassed.

But Lucy felt a strange sort of comfort that the only person who would see her like this was Garcia Flynn, someone whose demons were so loud they'd drown out all of her sins.

So she poured a drink with more alcohol than not, busying herself with observing the penthouse so she could avoid the judgmental stare Flynn was shooting her. She approached a display case, one riddled with pottery that seemed older than any time period Lucy had been to. With her free hand, she stroked an intricate blue and white vase before picking it up.

Flynn cringed in the corner of her eye, but said nothing. Lucy glanced at him. “Is this all yours?”

Flynn planted himself in front of her and plucked the vase from her hands. “Technically, none of it is mine.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Did you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it.” Flynn replaced the vase on the shelf before turning back to her. “Everything is still here.”

She took a long sip, scrunching her face at the burn of vodka down her throat.

“So you stole the apartment?”

Flynn shook his head, taking her glass and taking a sip. Even Garcia Flynn, mass murderer, historian kidnapper, and self-proclaimed terrorist, cringed at the taste.

“The apartment is still here.”

Lucy took the drink from his hands, passing by him with a tipsy twirl. “I don’t think you understand the concept of stealing,” she said before plopping down on the couch. “Garcia Flynn.”

“And I don’t think you understand the difference between stealing and trespassing,” Flynn said in a low voice as he slowly approached her. He dropped down on the couch next to her, face so close she could count his scars. “Lucy Preston.”

_ No, _ was the first thought that rang in her head. _ No, no, no, no, NO, they were definitely not doing this again.  _ So Lucy quickly stood up, chugging half of her glass in the process. To her utter relief, the room started spinning, and she welcomed the drunken bliss with open arms.

“I should tell you that Rufus did-”

“Nope.” She spun around, pointing her finger at him.

“Nope?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about Rufus.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow, but shrugged nonetheless. “Okay.”

Lucy was surprised at his acquiescence. “And I don’t want to talk about Rittenhouse.”

Flynn nodded once. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to talk about Rufus or Wyatt or Agent Christopher or Mason Industries or my mother or Noah or…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Or anything.”

“Okay,” Flynn repeated. He didn’t need to say it again, but he did. “What do you want to talk about?”

Lucy thought for a moment, pulling at her lip before glancing at her now empty cup. She stumbled forward, pouring another equally strong drink for both her and Flynn. She returned to the couch, offering him the glass.

“No talking. Just drinking.”

Flynn seemed to look at her strangely, and Lucy could practically see the gears turning in the back of his mind. But he didn’t say anything. He took her offering. 

“Just drinking.”

***

“That's not fair!” Lucy yelped, dodging his hand.

Unlike Lucy, Flynn’s words didn’t slur together as he spoke. “Rules are rules, Lucy. Take it off.”

Lucy glared at him. His own jacket and sweater were off, leaving him in only his undershirt. Lucy, on the other hand, had managed to keep most of her clothing on, minus the gray calf-length sock that was now strewn over the armrest of the couch.

“But I wasn’t lying!” Lucy insisted, her lips curving up in a smile. Flynn shook his head, throwing the top cards off of the deck. 

“That’s a 4 and a 6.”

Lucy shrugged. “And?”

“You said they were two fives. I called B.S. That's the game, Lucy.” He threw the cards in question at her with a goofy smile. “You lied, I caught you. Now strip.”

A phone started ringing somewhere far away, and Lucy immediately craned her head in its direction. “My phone?” She didn’t mean it as a question, but at this level of intoxication, everything came out wrong.

Flynn grunted, walking to the source of the sound and fishing out her phone. He looked at her. “Its Wyatt.”

Lucy was about to dismiss it entirely before she remembered just how long she’d been absent. With heavy feet, she stumbled to a stand and ripped the phone from her hands. “Lucy I don’t think that’s the best idea-”

“What is it, Wyatt?” Lucy said into the phone, making a poor attempt at sobriety.

“Lucy, what the hell,” Wyatt hissed, his voice all mushed together from the poor service. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

Lucy glanced at Flynn. “Oh, yeah, I broke my phone. Not on purpose. My phone broke accidentally.” She cursed herself, shaking her head. “Obviously.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!” It was too high pitched, too forced, and Lucy knew Wyatt could tell.

“Lucy, where are you right now?”

In a panic, Lucy turned to Flynn. She had no idea where she was, and her muddled brain couldn’t even come up with an excuse. Flynn met her panicked eyes with an equally confused look, shaking his head and shrugging.

“Say you’re with Noah,” Flynn tried to whisper, but with the amount of alcohol in his system, it wasn’t.

“Was that Flynn?” Wyatt nearly screeched. Lucy almost dropped the phone in her panic for an excuse.

“No! No, it’s Noah.”

The silence on the other end of the phone was painful.

“What the hell are you doing with Flynn at three in the morning?”

In Lucy’s infinitely bad luck, her body chose to hiccup loudly, and Lucy tried to stifle the onslaught of panic laughter that followed. She failed.

“Oh my god, are you drunk?”

Lucy exhaled slowly. “No.”

And then she hiccupped again.

“Get the hell out of there, Lucy. I’m picking you up.”

“Good luck,” she slurred into the phone. “I have no idea where I am.”

She heard him swear and shuffle around before he spoke again.

“I’m calling Christopher.”

And then he hung up. Lucy tried to react accordingly, tried to panic at their terrible situation after having been caught by Wyatt. But instead, she laughed. And laughed. And Flynn did, too, but in a way that was halfhearted and empty.

“I don’t know why I’m not freaking out right now,” she said between giggles. “I don’t know why this is funny.”

“Because we’re ridiculously drunk,” Flynn said simply. She stopped her laughs, schooling her expression.

“ _ You’re _ ridiculously drunk. I’m fine.” She hiccupped mid sentence, which did not help her case. But she didn’t mind, because Flynn’s face broke out in a smile. Lucy found that she very much liked his smile. It was imperfect, crooked, and a bit too...much. But it was the most genuine thing about him, something uncontrolled in the best way. 

“Why did you call me, Lucy?”

His question tore her from her stare. God, how long was she staring?

It didn’t matter. 

Lucy cleared her throat. “I told you. I needed help.”

“No,” he whispered. He moved closer to her, brushing their cards aside to get impossibly closer. “You said you needed me.”

Lucy didn’t like his sudden shift, the way his eyes were staring into her. She shrugged. “Same thing.”

“Is it?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, actually. Because I didn’t need help. Or you. I-” her head was all swirly and dizzy and Lucy had no idea what she was saying. “I don’t need you.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”

Lucy scoffed. “Trust me, if I needed help, you are the last person I’d go to.”

Flynn feigned offense. “You wound me, Lucy.”

She met his eyes, lifting her chin. “Good.”

Lucy went to reach for her drink, to drown the picture of his eyes in yet another unbalanced mixed drink, but Flynn caught her wrist mid-reach. She inhaled sharply, looking up into his eyes. Flynn swallowed.

Lucy had no idea how she went from kneeling in front of the man to laying on her back with his body pressing her into the ground. His lips were on hers, moving wildly, harsh, without any second thoughts. 

Her own hands found his hair, tightening her fingers and pulling him down towards her and _ how the hell did this even happen? _

She should push him off, she should be having doubts right now, but Lucy couldn’t resist the desire growing. She sighed when his hands moved to her waist and he groaned against her lips when her hips met his. 

He swore under his breath, planting his hand next to her head. Flynn broke the kiss, letting his fingers trail across Lucy’s jaw as he traced every line on her face with those dark, intense eyes. 

Lucy hated his eyes on her. So she reached out to pull him down, but Flynn caught her hand and pressed it into the ground. She grunted, attempting to yank her hand from his grasp.

“Let me look at you, Lucy,” he breathed. And the way he said it, he sounded like a man in a trance, a man too far gone. A man who was looking at everything he’d ever wanted.

“Why?” She whispered.  _ Why me? Why do you hate the world and everyone in it, then look at me like the world could be on fire and you wouldn’t care? _

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Because Lucy didn’t know how to respond to the way her heart leapt into her throat, Lucy pressed her lips to his, then trailed kisses down his cheek and jaw. He responded in kind, releasing her hand to touch her and touch her and touch her. His hand stroked over her neck to her chest, until they rested at the waistline of her pants.

It took him a moment to untie the string before it was loose enough to slip down her legs. Lucy kicked the clothing away, watching as Flynn settled between her legs. 

She gathered the hem of his undershirt into her hands before pulling it up. Flynn handled the rest, tearing it off with heavy breaths and tossing it across the room. Once again, Lucy was met with his muscled chest, riddled with scars and bruises. She traced them gently. Flynn’s breath was hot against her neck. Lucy yelped when he nipped her ear. She pulled back, staring at his face.

“Enough waiting,” he mumbled, gathering her shirt in his hands. 

The door burst open so hard, Lucy was surprised it was still on it’s hinges when she whirled around. Flynn shot to his feet, gun immediately in hand.  _ Where did that come from?  _ Lucy wondered for a split second. 

But the question quickly fluttered away when she shot up too, staring at the intruder.

“Get the hell away from my Fiance,” Noah said, pointing a gun at Flynn’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has become the "how many times can Lucy and Flynn almost sleep together before they actually do?" and I think that's wonderful.
> 
> Please Kudos and Comment your thoughts! This chapter was very new and different for me, so I want to see what you all think. I am also very drunk writing and posting this so please bear with me. Byeeeeeee!


	23. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) one year anniversary of this fic! Can't believe I still have people following, so thank you so much if you're still with me!

“Noah!”

“Noah?” Flynn tightened his hand on the gun.

Lucy’s fiancé stood n the doorway with pure hate in his eyes.

“Lucy, get away from him,” Noah warned. Lucy could barely move, hell she could barely even breathe correctly right now. A million and one thoughts started running through her mind, mainly, how the _ hell _ did he even find her? 

Lucy would ask, except she was currently staring down the barrel of a gun. She took a hesitant step forward. “Please put down the gun.”

“I said get away from him. Now.” 

Lucy shook her head. “Not until you put down the gun.

“Lucy.” Noah tore his eyes from Flynn to glare at her. “Come here.”

Lucy shook her head, praying to a god she didn't quite believe in that her drunkenness would subside.

“Come here. Now, Lucy,” Noah hissed, his tone a bit too calm for comfort. “I won't ask you again.”

Instead of doing the smart thing, like doing what the unhinged man pointing a gun told her to do, Lucy decided to so something infinitely more stupid.

She planted herself between the men.

“Noah, please put the gun down. I swear I can explain.”

He glared at her then, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean you can explain why you two were half naked tangled together on the living room floor?” He scoffed, but it wasn’t lighthearted in the slightest. “Whatever your excuse is, I don’t want to hear it.”

Lucy stuttered, looking back at Flynn. His grip tightened on the gun before he spoke.

“Why don’t we both calm down, okay? I’ll disarm if you do.”

“I’m not here to reason with you, terrorist.”

“I’m not here to reason with you either, asshole.”

“Guys.” Lucy held up her hands, looking between the barrels of the guns. “Noah-”

“I’m not leaving here without you, Lucy.”

Lucy lowered her hands, turning to face him fully. “What if I don’t want to go with you?”

Noah shook his head, rolling his eyes as if her refusal was petulance. “I don’t recall giving you a choice.”

She recoiled slightly, taking a step away from him. Noah glanced at her, his eyes jumping from her to Flynn. He huffed, shaking his head before pointing the gun at Lucy.

“Hey!” Flynn rushed forward. Lucy held out her arm to stop him.

“You’re coming with me, Lucy.” Noah narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards her. “Now.”

Provoked, Flynn grabbed Lucy’s arm, lowering it gently and pulling Lucy behind him his gun steady in his hand. “You need to leave.”

Noah lifted an eyebrow. “You won't shoot me.”

“I shot Abraham Lincoln,” Flynn said. “What makes you so special?”

“Because I’m here on behalf of Rittenhouse. And if you stop me from handing Lucy to them, they’ll hunt you down and make you suffer until you’ll wish I had killed you.”

There was a fleeting look in Flynn’s eyes, flashing for a moment so quickly that Lucy thought she’d imagined it. A smile twitched the end of his lips, replacing that mysterious emotion with a cold, empty smile. “You think I care if I suffer?”

“No.” Noah tipped his head back, staring at Flynn down the bridge of his nose. “But you care if she does.”

Flynn straightened, and whatever impulse Lucy had successfully smothered in the man was threatening to burst free.

Noah continued, “Stand down now, or I’ll hurt her in ways only a psychopath like you could imagine.”

Flynn raised his eyebrows. “How pleasant.”

A heavy silence settled, enveloping their standoff in a pool of simmering anger. It was only now, as the two men aimed weapons at each other, that Lucy noticed how similar they looked. Noah, who dwarfed Lucy significantly, was still a few inches shorter than Flynn, not to mention far thinner. But he had that sharp and angled nose, the same dark, ruffled locks that Lucy had buried her fingers in more than a few times. 

And, apparently, the two shared the same heated temper and villainous tendencies.

For the first time, Lucy understood what she saw in the mysterious fiancé she had avoided ever since he popped into her life. She wondered if it was on purpose; if the version of her that fell in love with Noah did it because he was the closest thing to the person she knew she couldn’t have. 

Lucy shook her head, snapping herself back to reality.

“Where’s Amy?” Lucy breached the empty space between them. “I heard you talking to my mother yesterday, about how Rittenhouse locked her away.” Lucy was closer to him now, and she figured she should probably be more afraid. “Where is my sister?”

He straightened. “I’ll tell you if you come with me.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes, the heat in her glare enough to burn the whole penthouse down. “Why? What does Rittenhouse want with me?”

“What they’ve always wanted from you, Lucy,” Noah said, his tone somehow infinitely darker. “To reclaim your birthright.”

“My birthright?”

“Tradition is deeply ingrained in our organization, Lucy. It’s how our leader is chosen.”

Lucy crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands. “I thought the founding fathers frowned upon hereditary monarchy.”

“Rittenhouse didn’t. Rittenhouse believed the most powerful of families will always produce the most capable leader,” Noah said, tilting his head at her. “And they were right. You are the one who should be leading us, Lucy.”

Lucy huffed, refusing to meet Noah’s crazed eyes. 

“The eldest child of the two most powerful families is always chosen as the next leader. But things…changed.”

“Changed?” Flynn spoke for the first time in ages. Noah shot him a glare.

“Rittenhouse fractured a few months ago, when an overambitious member decided he was the rightful heir to the Rittenhouse legacy over you,” Noah explained, gradually inching closer to Lucy. “He left. Took dozens of followers with him, enough to create his own radicalized group who worship him like a god. They declared us their enemy, and will do anything they can to destroy us.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lucy said.

“You don’t understand. These people...they’re radical, violent, completely unhinged. Lucy, imagine a Rittenhouse ungoverned, unrestrained, completely disregarding order and any human life other than their own. We wanted control. They want chaos.”

Radicals, legacy, tradition, Rittenhouse…it was all too much. Lucy blinked rapidly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Noah looked at her like the answer was obvious, and that she was ridiculous not to have seen it. “Because you’re the only one who can unite us, Lucy. To win back the radicals by claiming your rightful place.” He was so close now, he could reach out and touch her. “The place your brother stole from you.”

“My brother?”

Noah scoffed. “What, did you think he was in the Arctic for shits and giggles?” He laughed like it was a joke. “He was hiding, Lucy. Hiding from Rittenhouse, yes, but most importantly, he was hiding you-”

“You’re insane.”

“And your sister.”

It was like a bucket of cold water was poured all over her, freezing her into shock. 

Amy.

Noah smiled at her momentary shock, lowering the gun so it was pointed at her chest instead of her head. “You aren’t crazy. She was there, too. Ian wanted to use her as a bargaining chip against your mother, but it turns out Carol doesn’t really care about her children unless they’re heirs to great power and fortune.” 

“Shut up,” Lucy bit out.

“Like you.”

“Shut up!” She shouted. “I’m not going with you. I’m not going to be your leader, I’m not claiming my stupid legacy and I will not restore Rittenhouse!”

Noah laughed then, a disturbing kind of laugh that was rough around the edges. “Are you really so ignorant to assume you have a choice in the matter?” He shook his head, taking a step closer to her.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, Noah.”

The man turned to Flynn with an amused smile. “Because you’re such a saint?”

He wasn’t. Flynn knew he wasn’t. Hell, he was objectively more dangerous than Noah on a good day. “Leave.”

“Rittenhouse knows what you did, Garcia Flynn.”

Flynn paled. “I said leave.”

Noah glanced at Lucy. “You can’t lie to her forever,” he said, turning back to Flynn. "What do you think will happen when she finds out?"

Lucy furrowed her brows. “What?“

Before the word could fully escape from her mouth, Flynn lounged forward. She heard fists sink into flesh as Flynn threw Noah to the ground, the man quickly scrambling away. A gun skitted away from the scuffle, sliding across the wooden floors. Noah grunted, sweeping Flynn’s legs from under him until both men wrestled into the ground. 

Lucy ran across the room, following the path of the discarded gun. The fight ensued behind her, a mix of grunts and swears and cracking limbs. Lucy reached for the weapon.

And a gunshot pierced the air. 

It hurt less than Lucy ever thought it would. Of course, Lucy rarely imagined what it felt like to feel a bullet tear through skin. She was still standing, which she found strange, and facing the pristinely white wall. She didn’t want to turn around. She was fine right here.

“Lucy?” Flynn’s panicked voice reached her ears slowly. There was a hand at her waist and arm, tugging her away.

“I’m okay,” Lucy said.  _ Why am I okay? _

After running his solid hands over her for what seemed like hours, Flynn exhaled a breath of relief. “It’s just a graze.” He gently touched where the bullet ripped off a chunk of skin near her shoulder. “He shot you but its just a graze. You'll be fine.”

“Oh, good.”

Lucy was seized around the waist, and the felt the familiar sting of metal against her neck. Noah’s hand didn’t tremble as her pressed the blade to her throat.

“I don’t want to hurt you. But I will.”

“Hurt her and you’ll regret ever being born,” Flynn growled.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Flynn,” Noah said calmly, his words spoken heavily at the back of her neck. “You’re going to get on your knees, slowly, and you’re going to put your hands on your head.”

Lucy met Flynn’s eyes, shaking her head softly. Noah must have seen her not-so-subtle movements, digging the knife into her skin with a low growl. Lucy failed to stifle the pathetic whimper that escaped her lips.

Flynn surged forward. “Stop!”

“Now,” Noah hissed.

With reluctant movements, Flynn rested his hands on his head, slowly lowering to his knees. 

“You’re going to regret this,” Flynn said as he settled on the ground.

Noah released a bitter laugh. “What are you going to do? Glare me to death?”

“No,” Flynn said simply. “I’m gonna watch.”

Lucy mirrored Noah’s look of confusion. “Watch what?”

“This.” A voice behind them said. Before Lucy could do anything but blink, a blow forced her and Noah to the ground. Noah bore the brunt of the fall, landing roughly against the wood floor. Lucy was hoisted from Noah’s limp arms, crashing into a broad chest. 

“You’re okay,” Wyatt whispered, dragging her away from Noah’s limp body. “I’ve got you.”

Lucy wanted to slip from his arms, but the shock forced her to stay still. Noah was still alive…at least, Lucy hoped he was. He was an asshole, sure, but an important one. One she couldn’t wait to get answers from. 

“What the hell happened?” Wyatt hissed, his grip tightened on Lucy’s shoulder. His eyes ran over Flynn’s body. “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“He snuck up on us,” Flynn replied flatly, electing to leave his second question unanswered. If Wyatt’s deduction skills were really that abysmal, he had no business being a soldier.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted Lucy. For Rittenhouse.”

Wyatt swallowed, shaking his head. “Rittenhouse? How did they get to Noah?”

“They didn’t have to,” Flynn said, staring blankly out the window. “He’s been with them all along.”

It was Wyatt's turn to stammer, holding Lucy closer to his chest. “What do they want with Lucy?”

Flynn sighed. “To play poker,” he grumbled sarcastically. “Figure it out yourself, Delta force.”

Wyatt looked like he wanted to do nothing more than punch Flynn in the face, but surprisingly, he restrained himself. He turned to Lucy.

“What were you two doing?”

Lucy blinked up at him. “Nothing, Wyatt. I didn’t want to go home to my mother or Noah and I just...I needed somewhere to go.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes, and Flynn could tell he didn’t believe her. Suddenly, Wyatt’s scrutinizing gaze was on him.

“If you even touched her I swear to god-"

“Oh, I did much more than touch.”

A fury heated Wyatt's glare, an anger that Flynn hadn’t known the man was even capable of. 

It was only then that Lucy remembered Noah’s words, his accusation as pointed as the gun in his hand.

_ You can’t lie to her forever. _

“What did he mean?” Lucy asked. 

Wyatt looked at her, loosening his grip. Across the room, Flynn straightened.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit, Flynn.” Lucy pushed away from Wyatt, approaching Flynn with steady feet. “You lied to me?”

“Of course I lied to you, Lucy.” Flynn whirled around to face her, his eyes suspiciously…wet? “I’ve lied to you and hurt you and caused you pain because that’s all I know. It’s all I am.”

And he was right. Maybe Lucy was blinded by her feelings, those pesky emotions that drove this strange desire. But he was a bad person. He lied, he killed, and he did horrible, terrible things. For all the wrong reasons. Why didn’t that bother her more? 

She used to see this man as a monster. But standing right here, right now, as he tried so hard to convince her that a monster was all he was, he had never been more human to her.

But that’s not what she said. Because she was ashamed that despite everything, she still cared for him. He was the most dangerous thing in her life, but for some reason, she's never felt safer than when she was in his arms. And that terrified her. So instead, she inched closer to him, baring her teeth as she whispered, “Maybe it is.”

Lucy was distantly reminded of the blood running down her arm and trailing down her neck. She blinked, breaking eye contact with Flynn. 

“I want to leave.” She said to no one in particular.

Wyatt nodded absently, leading Lucy out the door and leaving Flynn to stare at the empty room.

***

_ Maybe it is. _

Flynn was haunted by Lucy’s last words to him. And her face while she said it, her eyes so filled with fury…

God, he fucked it up. He fucked it all up.

Agent Christopher barely batted an eye at him as she entered the room, more interested in the bloodied and beaten man on the floor than the state of Flynns undress.

“You’re okay?” It was less of a question and more of an occupational custom, Flynn assumed.

“Never better,” he replied flatly.

Agent Christopher nodded. “Good.”

The agents surrounded the room for almost an hour, collecting their new Rittenhouse prisoner and whatever random prices of junk qualified as “evidence”. Flynn went relatively undisturbed the whole time. That was, until Christopher dropped a pile of clothes on the couch next to him.

“These aren’t yours.” Again, not a question.

She was right: they weren’t his. They were Lucy’s from the night before. The night in the shower, when she had pulled him so close to her, settling in his lap with a trust that only a fool would give.

“Observant,” Flynn responded. Denise fingered the fabric of the smooth cotton t-shirt, shaking her head.

“What was she doing here, Flynn?” Her voice was a low whisper.

He grunted softly, adjusting to sink back into the couch cushions.

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“ _ You _ are my business. You and Lucy both.”

Flynn didn’t respond, staring blankly at the pile of clothes. 

“Was this…” Denise began, shaking her head and sighing. “Was she…”

She stammered for a moment, something Flynn had never seen the woman do. He was shocked, to be honest, at the strange display. He tipped his head, not entirely sure what she was trying to say.

Until he met her eyes. Cold, hateful eyes, and Flynn’s confusion flitted away, replaced immediately with a pool of dread. He pressed his lips together, swallowing as he looked away. 

“It was all entirely consensual,” he bit out.

Denise looked visibly relieved, if not still a bit suspicious. A better man would have been offended by her insinuation, placed in a realm of utter shock that someone could even accuse him of such a thing.

But Flynn felt nothing of the sort. He felt an absence of the impulse to defend himself, to assure her that he wasn’t  _ that  _ type of monster. He stayed silent instead, retreating further into the couch cushions.

Denise must have mistook his silence for offense.

“I had to ask,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

“And if anyone hurt Lucy-”

“I said I know!” He shouted. He breathed heavily, eyes locked on hers, face turned in a scowl. “Please leave.”

Without another word, the men filed out. Denise was the last to go, peeking over her shoulder before she shut the door. Flynn released a deep breath once he was finally alone, closing his eyes and rubbing his rough hands over his face.

“Is every day this exciting?”

Flynn shot up, turning to face the source of the voice. 

“Maybe I’ve just been cooped up too long.” Ian Cahill picked up a crystal decanter, peering through the warped glass. “Not much happening in the Arctic these days.”

“What are you doing here?” Flynn hissed.

Ian peeked around the object he was admiring. “Not following you, funny enough.” He placed it on the counter gently, clasping his hands together. “But here I am.”

“You have 10 seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now.” Flynn’s fingers twitched, wishing for the weight of his gun.

Ian grinned. “Lucy.”

Flynn rolled his shoulders, narrowing his eyes. “How dare you-”

“How  _ dare _ I?” Ian hissed. “We had a deal.”

“A deal you broke!” Flynn roared, slamming his hand on the table. 

“I did no such thing.”

“Really?” Flynn barked out a heartless laugh. “If you were so true to your word, how the hell did Noah know about my involvement in your stupid little cause?”

“It wasn’t so stupid when you pitched me the idea,” Ian said, raising an eyebrow.

Flynn glared, inching towards the knife tucked safely behind his couch.

Ian sighed. “I swear, I have no idea how Noah knew.”

“And in the Arctic?” Flynn asked furiously. “Sticking your sister in an icebox with me? Is that your idea of not hurting her?”

“I thought you’d like it!” Ian smiled, raising an eyebrow. “A damsel in distress.”

Flynn shook his head, running a hand through his hair.  _ No, no, no this wasn’t how any of it was supposed to go. _ “You promised she wouldn’t get hurt!”

“I promised  _ I _ wouldn’t hurt her. My men I have no control over.”

Finally, Flynn reached the spot his knife sat taped to the back of his couch. He unsheathed the blade, leveling it at Ian’s eyes. “You’re a dead man, Ian.”

Ian didn’t even flinch, reaching into his pocket. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His hand emerged with a cell phone, the screen already activated. “I wonder what would happen…” Looking closer, Flynn saw a green ‘send’ button fill the screen. “If Lucy found out you helped form our little radicalized Rittenhouse group.”

Flynn faltered, hiding the way his hand had begun to shake uncontrollably.  _ She can’t know. Lucy can never know. _

“That it was your idea to rally the most violent members of Rittenhouse, cause a coup from the inside.” Ian approached Flynn, circling slowly around him, fearless, vengeful. “Use her sister as a hostage. Now that,” Ian laughed, nodding at Flynn, “that part has to be my favorite.”

He stopped directly in front of Flynn, cruel lips turned up into a smirk. “She’d hate you.”

_ “I’ve lied to you and hurt you and caused you pain because that’s all I know. It’s all I am.” _

_ She’s in front of him again, staring furiously into his eyes. Tears threaten to spill, and it wouldn’t be the first time he made her cry. Not even the second. But that was fine. That was...good. He wanted her to hate him. Hatred was safe; hatred meant she wouldn’t fall victim to his own personal curse. Everyone he ever loved had died. Lucy Preston could never come close to loving him. _

_ ‘Maybe it is,’ she says. His heart shatters as he watches her leave. _

_ They're in the chapel, blood mixed with sweat and tears and anger, coating their hands and clothes until it stains. Stains and scars and stays there forever, never to be forgotten or forgiven. She meets his eyes in the reflection of the stained glass window. _

_ ‘You’re a monster,’ she says, tears trailing down her cheeks. _

_ ‘I know,’ he thinks to himself. _

_ The bedroom is suffocating with her in it. She’s staring up at him. Not like the others, though. She was different. Lucy was always different. Her gaze wasn’t laced with fear and cowardice, but determination. Pride. Anger. She bares her teeth as he secures the handcuffs around the bedpost, and by god, why does his enemy have to be so beautiful? He’s lost in her eyes, in the silkiness of her hair and the dip of her collarbones- _

_ ‘I hate you,’ she says, snapping Flynn from his reverie. _

“She already does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was supposed to be 2 chapters and here we are one year later...wow.
> 
> You can take the man out of the war but you can't take the war out of the man. Flynn's always up to something...anyway, our descent into more angst has begun! Let me know how you all feel about this twist. :)


	24. Who We Are

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Wyatt asked for the fifth time. “You can always stay at my place. There’s plenty of room.”

Lucy sighed. “Yes, Wyatt, I’ll be okay. You can stop mothering me.”

Wyatt scoffed, tightening his grip on the railing. “Is it really so bad?”

He was looking at her intensely, in that way Wyatt Logan does. The way that caught her under his spell so long ago. If it weren’t for Flynn, perhaps she’d still be there. Perhaps a lot of things would be different.

“It’s not. I’m sorry,” Lucy said, looking away to save herself from meeting his eyes any longer. “Thank you for...for everything.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice low and breathy. He was silent for a long moment. They had spent the last few hours at Mason Industries, waiting and waiting for any instruction. She had changed into a spare set of Jiya’s clothes, ripped dark blue jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that didn’t quite feel right on her skin. But at least it smelled like Jiya. At least she was able to rid herself of the thin white undershirt that smelled so much like...him. 

Wyatt and Lucy avoided any substantial topic of conversation, electing to comment on trivial things like Lucy’s bandaged arm and bloodstained neck. Christopher had been trying to crack Noah for hours, and so far, it’d been radio silence. Lucy sighed.

“I know I owe you an explanation,” she muttered. “I swear I’ll give it to you just...not now.”

“Then when?”

Lucy looked at him. “Soon.”

He raised an eyebrow, and Lucy drew in a deep breath. “I should’ve suspected Noah was Rittenhouse.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known,” he reassured her, but it didn’t make her feel better in the slightest.

“I just wanted to convince myself that something in my life was real so bad, that there was something that Rittenhouse couldn’t control.” She swallowed, shaking her head. “I guess I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t wrong,” Wyatt said. “You still have you, and you still have us. No matter how powerful they are, Rittenhouse can’t control who we are.”

She didn’t truly believe him, not after everything she’d seen. But Lucy nodded, if just to satisfy him. 

“Lucy.”

Denise's voice startled her. Lucy turned around, facing the woman.

“I need you to come with me.”

It was Wyatt who answered. “Why?”

Christopher glanced at Wyatt over Lucy’s shoulder. “It’s Noah. He’ll only talk to Lucy.”

Lucy heard Wyatt scoff in disgust. “Of course he will.”

“Lucy, you don’t have to do this-“

“I’ll do it.” She didn’t hesitate, flexing her hands at her sides. Wyatt latched into her elbow.

“You shouldn’t go in there alone.”

She shrugged him off. “I’ll be fine, Wyatt.”

With a nod, Denise turned around and led Lucy and Wyatt down three flights of stairs, through a server room and down an elevator Lucy didn't recognize.

“There’s one way glass and two guards stationed outside of the door,” Christopher explained as they approached the interrogation room. “He’s chained up. He can’t hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lucy said. Surprisingly, she wasn’t. She was angry, and pissed, and itching for answers.

_ You can’t lie to her forever. _

“You ready?” Denise asked. Lucy nodded.

“Ready.”

The door creaked open, and Lucy stepped inside. 

Noah immediately met her eyes. His own grew wide and hopeful, as if she were here to save him. As if she were someone he’d hoped for. His wrists were cuffed to the table, his face bruised and bloodied. His shirt was different, too, replaced with a black Mason Industries t-shirt, one with a 9 millimeter hole poking through the shoulder. 

Lucy pulled out the metal chair, letting it scrape against the cement with a loud screech. She plopped down in the seat. Lucy didn’t know much about interrogation, but she knew one thing: never be the one to break the silence.

“Lucy.” Noah’s voice croaked.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Noah.”

He waited for her to speak. Lucy crossed her arms with a sigh.

“Well...say something,” he said, tugging at his wrists. Lucy scoffed.

“I have nothing to say to you, Noah.”

“Lucy-“

“What did you think was going to happen here? I’d waltz in here and take pity on you? Maybe beg Agent Christopher to go easy on you?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “You held a gun to my head.”

“Because I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me?!” Lucy’s anger boiled over. She was so sick and tired of everyone trying to  _ fucking  _ protect her. “You threatened me. You held a knife to my throat, you shot me, you psychopath!”

Her voice rang out in the cramped cement room. Lucy took a deep breath, fanning her fingers out on the metal table. “The only reason I’m in here is because you won’t open your trap for anybody else. So say what you need to say before I leave and let them do terrible things to you.”  Lucy’s eyes met his with a raised eyebrow. “Things only a psychopath like you could imagine.”

Noah inhaled sharply, but said nothing. Lucy shook her head, planting her hands on the table. 

“I knew it. You’re a coward, Noah.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Blindly following a group of terrorists hell bent on destroying history?” She glared at him, leaning forward on her hands. “Do you even believe in what they’re doing? Or do you just follow them because that's what they told you to do?”

“I follow them because they promised me you.”

Lucy blinked, shifting away from him. “What?”

“I’ve loved you for so long, Lucy. Ever since we first met I knew I wanted to be with you forever,” Noah said, his lips trembling.

“Thats a lie.”

“It’s the truth. They said if I stayed loyal to Rittenhouse and got you to do the same, then I’d be able to have you. Forever. Just like we wanted.”

“I’m not a thing to _ have _ ,” Lucy hissed, backing away from him. “I’m a person, Noah. How dare you-”

“Wait.” He shot up, but with his hands chained to the table, he could only go so far. A chorus of metal clanging rang out. “Wait, wait...I can tell you where your brother is.”

Now that, Lucy did not expect. Lucy turned around, locking eyes with herself in the one way mirror, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see Denise on the other side. Lucy swallowed, turning back to Noah. “My brother?”

“Let me prove to you my love,” Noah whispered. Lucy dipped her head for him to continue. “I assume you know your father is Rittenhouse, after all of your joy rides with Flynn. Two weeks ago, when Rittenhouse first began to suspect there was a coup happening from the inside, your father put me on the investigation. He wanted me to pretend I was interested in this stupid rebellion order to find out who was orchestrating it.”

“I know all this. It was Ian who did it, trying to claim my birthright-”

“Is what your brother wanted us to believe.”

Lucy’s lips parted slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Ian had never shown any interest in starting a coup. Your father knew this, I knew this, hell all of Rittenhouse knew it. And suddenly his future self pops into the equation with a score to settle? It didn’t add up. How did he travel through time without a machine? How did he know things about Rittenhouse, classified information, that nobody else could know?” Noah leaned in close to Lucy, who had sat down sometime in his explanation. “He needed help. Someone here that guided him. That’s when we connected it to you.”

“Me?” Lucy repeated dumbly. “Why would I have anything to do with this?”

“You don’t. Well, not directly,” Noah said, leaning back into his chair. “It’s your journal. Every dirty little Rittenhouse secret, every step to every game Rittenhouse has ever played, it's all in there. And Ian used it to orchestrate a rebellion from the lowest, most vile of our ranks.”

Amy, her brother’s sudden reappearance, her mother, Rittenhouse...it all tied back to her stupid journal. Of course it did. Lucy supposed it made sense. Hell, it wasn't the first time someone had used it to try to bring Rittenhouse down.  One thing, however, didn’t add up. “No, that’s not possible. Ian doesn’t have the journal.”

“He doesn’t?”

Lucy’s eyes trailed the dirty metal. “He does,” she breathed. But that wasn’t possible. Unless Flynn had somehow lost track of her journal? Had he lost it? But he would never lose it. It was her life’s work, his manifesto...

“We thought the same. So we did some more digging, and tracked their finances. They were purchasing weapons, land, abandoned buildings, they had to be getting that money from somewhere. And we found it. Ian’s rebels were funded by a shell company. Fraudulent funds registered to the only building on the only road in the middle of the Utah desert.” He paused, long enough for Lucy to meet his stare. “The address was 1937 Iris Boulevard.” 

Lucy inhaled sharply.  _ Iris.  _

It wasn't possible. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t. “You’re lying-”

“Why would I lie?” Noah asked. “I told Flynn he couldn’t lie to you forever.” He leaned forward, his face so close Lucy could feel his breath on her skin. “You asked him yourself, didn’t you? About his lies.”

She nodded.

“And what did he say?”

_ Of course I lied to you, _ he’d said.  _ I’ve lied to you and hurt you and caused you pain because that’s all I know. It’s all I am. _

“You’re wrong.” Even as Lucy said it, she didn’t believe her own words. “Ian kidnapped us, he hurt Flynn. I saw it.”

Noah smirked. “What better way to earn your trust?”

Lucy didn’t remember rising from her chair, or barging out the door. One minute she was in the interrogation room, and the next, she was flying through the halls. Denise and Wyatt were close on her heels.

It was all Flynn. How long had he been orchestrating this? How long had he manipulated history so they'd be forced to work together? Lucy’s breath picked up as she flew through the halls. Had it all been a lie? 

“What the hell was that about?” Christopher called from behind her.

“Flynn paid Ian to kidnap all of us? And he’s funding an even more violent form of Rittenhouse?” Wyatt trailed behind her. Lucy exhaled shakily. “Why would he do any of that?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy bit out.

“Flynn hates Rittenhouse, why the hell would he help start a new one?”

Lucy whirled around to face him. “I don’t know, okay?!” 

Wyatt and Denise slowed to a stop, exchanging a wary glance.

“He never...said anything?” Denise asked. Lucy gaped at her.

“No, Flynn never offhandedly mentioned the terrorist splinter group he allegedly started with my psychopath brother who, oh, that's right, kidnapped us and held us hostage!”

Lucy was breathing hard, seething, teeth clenched in anger. 

“Lucy, you need to calm down,” Denise said. Lucy scoffed, shaking her head.

“I don’t need to calm down, I need answers.”

With that, she spun around, tumbling down the stairs and out the door. The night air was cool, quickly drying the sweat that had gathered at her brow. She breathed deeply, watching the moisture exhale from her lips and cloud in the air before her. The breeze blew through her thin t-shirt, sending chills up her spine.

Metal clanged down the alley. Lucy jerked towards the sound. More clanging, metal on metal, lowered voices, travelled down the alley and to her ears. Lucy took measured steps towards them, slipping through the wire fence towards a muted light just down the block.

It was an empty garage, discarded car parts strewn about the cement. The voices were low and masculine and oddly familiar. Looking back, Lucy could still see Mason Industries poking above the fence.

She peeked inside the garage, and her eyes rounded in shock.

Hands grasped her bicep before she could say anything to Flynn, whose head was still bowed over what seemed to be blueprints. At her yelp, his head flew up, eyes locking with hers.

“Lucy,” he breathed. Beside him, a man chuckled.

“Well,” her brother said, clearing his throat. “This is awkward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit just keeps hitting the fan, doesn't it?
> 
> Comment if you're enjoying! I'm excited for whats coming next, I hope you are too!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Subscribe if you want to see more!


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